





























'O0 % 









































































































' IL 



LADY BOUNTIFUL 



LADY BOUNTIFUL 

A STORY OF YEARS 
<$> $fat in Sour (get e 



* 



ARTHUR W. PINERO 



My masters will you hear a simple tale? 

No war, no lust, not a Commandment broke 

By sir or madam— but a history 

To make a rhyme to speed a young maid's hour." 



.. 



NEW YOR 




UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY / 

5 and 7 East Sixteenth Street 



Chicago : 266 & 268 Wabash Ave. 



\% « 



"NT 



■La 



Copyright, 1892, by 
ARTHUR W. PINERO 

[^4// rights reserved] 



IX- X o 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

When Mr. Pinero set himself to write " Lady Boun- 
tiful " he evidently thought that a public which 
had patiently devoured Thackeray and Dickens in 
monthly numbers, which noiv was content to read 
even Mr. George Meredith in serial form, and made 
Mr. Mudie the autocratic guide to its literary taste, 
might be prepared to listen with interest to a story 
told in four acts which otherwise might have been 
narrated in three volumes. But the event proved 
that Mr. Pinero, in this instance, had not correctly 
gauged that unknown and very variable quantity, 
the British Public. It had been complained by the 
more captious of the newest critics that the stories 
of the plays written by even our best contemporary 
dramatists were such as no self-respecting novelist 
would condescend to handle. Be this as it may, the 
story of "Lady Bountiful" is, I venture to think, 
human and interesting enough to offer possibilities 
to the novelist ; whereas Mr. Pinero treated it, after 
his lights, in dramatic form. And he gripped the 
attention of his audiences, and made them laugh 
and made them cry, and yet " Lady Bountiful " can- 
not be described as a popular success, in London at 
all events. 

How is this comparative failure to be accounted 
for ? I cannot think that the public was much con- 
cerned, as to whether it was or was not a novel in 
stage form, but the absence of any showy dramatic 
emotion may have exerted an adverse influence on 
the fortunes of the play. " Lady Bountiful " was 
produced at a moment when the palate of the play- 



8 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

going public was being tickled by some very highly 
flavoured dramatic fare, and possibly, despite the 
gentle tyranny of " the young lady of fifteen," some 
resentment was felt that Mr. Pinero should have in- 
vited the great British Public to listen to "a history 
to make a rhyme to speed a young maid's hour." 
We are, of course, a very moral and respectable peo- 
ple ; but we do not necessarily wish our virtues to 
be dragged into our amusements. We prefer to 
keep them separate ; and when a dramatist deliber- 
ately seeks to entertain us witli a play in which not 
a single Commandment shall bo broken, we — speak- 
ing as the public — say, " Ilownice of him, and what 
a sweet and pure and wholesome play to take young 
girls to;" but, at l lie same time, Ave go, to see not 
his play, but something else, where, at least, the 
Seventh Commandment is not preserved in cotton- 
wool against fracture — and Ave send our girls to 
German Reed's. 

But there were also other reasons for the non- 
success of "Lady Bountiful." People Avho seek 
amusement at the' theatre do not really like to be 
made to cry. Actual pathos, Avhich strikes home 
by its simple truth, is not endurable as long as it 
hrvoh T es men and women of modern life. That 
pathetic scene in which Meg Heron dies quietly in 
her chair, Avhile her husband, at her bidding, is talk- 
ing to the baby in the cradle, Avas, I cannot help 
thinking, in a great measure accountable for the non- 
success of " Lady Bountiful." The audience Avas in 
tears in spite of itself, feeling the sadness of the 
episode Avith actual pain ; and people came away 
from the theatre saying, " A beautiful play, but I 
would not see it again for Avorlds ; it has made me 
so miserable." That lasting impression of sadness 



INTE OD UCTOR Y NO TE. 9 

was the key-note to the fate of this play. Then, 
again, the respective characters of Camilla Brent 
and Dennis Heron appeared perplexing to many, 
and, being so, presented themselves in an unsym- 
pathetic light. The girl who endeavours to inspire 
the man she loves with ambition that shall impel 
him to perform a worthy part in life, who not un- 
naturally expresses her disappointment when she 
perceives no sign of the laudable ambition she had 
hoped to foster, was written down as " a priggish 
and inconsistent young woman." On the other 
hand, the young man who, in his sense of gratitude 
to the humble folk who have befriended him in his 
time of need, feels that the fault must be his, when 
he discovers that their daughter has fallen in love 
with him, and therefore his the reparation, at all 
costs to himself of happiness and prospects, was 
solemnly written of as an egotistical young cub, 
and a quixotic fool to boot. 

With a hero and heroine misunderstood like this 
by experienced playgoers, it is not surprising that 
the tone and significance of the whole play failed to 
appeal to the majority of the audiences. However, 
through the publication of the work, freed from the 
uncertainties of representation, the public is now 
brought into more direct communion with the 
author's intentions, and may therefore, perhaps, be 
able to regard the play in a more sympathetic 
light. 

Mr. John Hare produced " Lady Bountiful " at 
the Garrick Theatre on March 7, 1891, and with- 
drew it on Friday, May 22, of the same year, after 
66 performances. The following is a copy of the 
programme on the occasion of the first representa- 
tion. 



10 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



THE GARRICK THEATRE. 

Lessee and Manager, Mr. John Hare. 



THIS EVENING, SATURDAY, MARCH 7th, 1S91. 

WILL BE ACTED 

LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

ANEW AND ORIGINAL PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 

BY 

A. W. PINERO. 



Sir Lucian Brent, Bart . 

Sir Richard Philliter, Q. 

C 

Roderick Heron. 

Dennis Heron 

John Vj ale. 

Pedgeift (a Parish Clerk and 

Sexton.) 

Wimple 

Floyce 

A Villager. 



Mr. Gilbert Hare. 

(His First Appearance in London). 

Mr. C. W. Somerset. 

Mr. John Hall. 

Mr. J. Forbes-Robertson. 

Mr. Charles Groves. 

Mr. R. Cathcart. 
Mi;. John Byron. 

Mr. R. Power. 

Mb. Henry Rivers. 



Miss Brent . 
Camilla Brent . 
Beatrix Brent . 
Mrs. Ye ale . 
m arg a ret v e ale 
Mrs. Hodnutt (a Pew 

Opener) 
Amelia. 
A Villager. 



Miss Carlotta Addison. 
Miss Kail RORKE. 
Miss Beatrice Ferrar. 
Miss Dolores Drummond. 
Miss Marie Linden. 

Miss Caroline Elton. 
Miss WEBSTER. 
Miss E. Turtle. 



Note. — The Author desires to acknowledge the relationship of one of the 
characters of his play to the well-known family of the Skimpoles. 



" My masters, will you hear a simple tale ? 
No war, no lust, not a Commandment broke 
By sir or madam— but a history 
To make a rhyme to speed a young maid's hour." 



IN TR OD UCTOR Y NO TE. 1 1 

ACTI. 

AUNT ANNE SPEAKS HER MIND. 

Peele-Lydgate. A Morning-room at " Fauncourt" 



ACT II. 

DENNIS SETS FOOT IN A NEW WORLD. 

London. Three Months After. 

" The Hyde Park Riding Academy ," Trevor Row, Knights- 

bridge. 



ACT III. 

MARGARET PREPARES FOR HER VOYAGE. 

London. Eighteen Months After. 
The Basement, 9 Pinch Street, Westminster. 



ACT IV. 



CAMILLA GOES TO THE ALTAR. 

Peele-Lydgate. Five Years After. 
St. Eanswythe, Lydgate Old Church. 



The curtain will fall for a moment during Act IV., to repre- 
sent the lapse of a night. 



SCENERY BY MR. W. HARFORD. 



On November 16, 1891, "Lady Bountiful" was 
produced simultaneously by Mr. Daniel Frohman at 
the Lyceum Theatre, New York, and by Mr. R. M. 



12 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

Field at the Boston Museum, but the fortunes of the 
play differed very materially in the two great centres 
of American theatrical enterprise. In New York its 
success was far greater than had been anticipated, 
and it enjoyed quite a long career ; but in Boston 
the playgoing public turned an indifferent ear to it, 
in spite of the sympathy and praise of the critics, 
and it was withdrawn in a fortnight. The simplicity 
and gentleness of the story may have had something 
to do with this, as one writer pointed out, though in 
some quarters it was suggested that the play was 
not as happily cast in Boston as in New York. A 
curious fact in connection with the New York pro- 
duction was the changing of the hero's name from 
Dennis to Donald. Mr. Frohman did this because 
in that city, it appears, Dennis is used as the pro- 
verbial designation for a man who is always left 
behind, and therefore it was not considered auspi- 
cious for the hero of a new play. In Boston the name 
was not changed. Herein, perhaps, is matter for 
the curious collater of theatrical superstitions. 

Malcolm C. Sal a man. 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Sib Lucian Brent, Bart 

Camilla Brent 

Beatrix Brent 

Miss Brent 

Roderick Heron 

Dennis Heron 

John Veale 

Mrs. Veale 

Margaret Yeale 

Sir Richard Philliter, Q. C. 

Amelia 

Wimple 

Pedgrift 

Mrs. Hodnutt 

Floyce 

Note.— The Author desires to acknowledge the relation- 
ship of one of the characters of his play to the well-known 
family of the Skimpoles. 



THE FIRST ACT 
AUNT ANNE SPEAKS HER MIND 

THE SECOND ACT 
DENNIS SETS FOOT IN A NEW WORLD. 

THE THIBD ACT 

MARGARET PREPARES FOR HER VOYAGE 

THE FOURTH ACT 
CAMILLA GOES TO THE ALTAR 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 



THE FIRST ACT. 
AUNT ANNE SPEAKS HER MIND. 

The scene is a luxuriously comfortable and elega?it 
morning room at Fauncourt, the country seat of 
Camilla Brent. Through the mullioned win- 
dows a beautiful garden is seen ; a little vestibule 
leads to the garden, while a further room is 
reached by a few oaken steps with balustrades. 
It is a bright morning in late summer. 

Beatrix Brent, a healthy-looking, rosy-cheeked civil d 
of about thirteen, is standing by the window 
playing her violin. Sir Luctan Brent, her 
brother, a handsome young man of over twenty, 
passes outside smoking a pipe, and then enters 
through the vestibule, and lolls on the settle. 

Lucian. 
Good morning, Trix. 

Beatrix. 

Good morning. You may not smoke here, you 
know. We ladies don't like it. 



18 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Luciax. 

Oh. [Returning his pipe to his case.'] "Well, we 
gentlemen, especially when Ave' re reading for 
" Smalls," don't like immature fiddling. 

Floyce, a manservant, enters with newspapers, which 
he places upon the table, except " The Times" 

which he hands to Luciax. 

Floyce. 
The papers, Sir Lucian. [Floyce goes out. 

Beatrix. 

Aunt Anne would be very indignant if she knew 
you had answered me. [Proudly.] You know I 
am delicate. 

Luciax. 

No, I don't. I believe that's an impressive fic- 
tion, Trix. You always look sufficiently jolly. 

Beatrix. 
As a matter of fact I am extremely delicate. 

Luciax. 
Then you shouldn't let it make you so vain. 

Beatrix. 

[Regarding Lttcian with disgust.] There ought 
to be no such relationship as brother and sister. 
Families should be all girls or all boys. 

[Approaching him, she scrapes the bass string 
of her violin in his ear. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 19 

Luciax. 

Be quiet, Trix. 

Beatrix. 

Come into the next room and play my accompani- 
ment — there's a darling. 

Lucian. 
When I've read the paper. 

Beatrix. 

Hateful Boy ! [Looking out of the window.'] Hal- 
loa! Oh-h-h! 

[Miss Brent is passing the windows out- 
side, with her head down and her hands 
clasped behind her. 

Lucian". 
Eh? 

Beatrix. 
Just look ! [In a whisper .] Aunt Anne. 

Luciax. 
Anything wrong ? 

Beatrix. 

Whenever Aunt Anne stalks the garden in that 
way somebody is in for a scolding. 

Lucian. 
She was on the march before I was down. 



20 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Beatrix. 

Do you think Lady Bountiful has been spending 
too much money, or something of that sort ? 

Lucian. 

Camilla is her own mistress. Aunt Anne is my 
guardian for a few months longer, but Lady Bounti- 
ful is over age. 

Beatrix. 

Yes, but I know she still regulates Camilla's 
money-matters. 

LlJCIAN. 

[Tapping something on the floor with his foot."] 
What's that? 

Beatrix. 

[Picking up a chatelaine."] Aunt Anne has 
dropped her chatelaine. Lucian, aunt always scrib- 
bles her day's business on this tablet. Shall we 
peep ? 

Luciax. 

I couldn't do such a thing. You're different. 

Beatrix. 
If it's mean for you it's mean for me. 

Lucian. 

That doesn't follow. You're young and far from 

Beatrix. 



strong. 



Hush! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 21 

[Miss BREXT^sses the windows again. As 
she walks away Beatrix opens the tab- 
let and holds it before Lucian's eyes. 

Lucian. 

\_He reads it eagerly, then turns away with indigna- 
tion.^ Oh, Beatrix. 

Beatrix. 

Did you see anything ? 

Lucian". 
How could I help it ? 

Beatrix. 
Tell Trixy. 

Liician. 
" Sir Richard Philliter. Eleven-thirty." 



Be 



ATRIX. 



Dear Sir Richard must be coming over from 
Baverstoke Park. I am glad ! Anything else ? 

Lucia n. 

Yes. "JohnVeale. Twelve o'clock." That's all. 

Beatrix. 
John Yeale ? 

Lucian. 
The horse-dealer at Baverstoke 

Beatrix. 
Oh, of course ; the man who sells horses to Uncle 



22 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick and Dennis. [Putting the chatelaine on 
the tahle.~\ That hasn't told us much. 

[A man's voice singing a chansonette gaily to 
a piano is heard from the other room. 

Beatrix. 

There's Uncle Roderick ! 

[She snatches up her violin anil plays the 
tune he is singing. Roderick Heron, a 
pleasant-looking little gentlt man of about 
fifty, buoyant ami effusive in manner^ 
appears on the steps andfinishes his song. 

Roderick Heron. 

[Shaking his fi>iy<r at Beatrix.] Ha, ha! Quite 
half a tone flat. My little fairy ! Lucian, your 
reading prospers ? [lie joins them. 

Lucian. 
Moderately well, uncle. 

Roderick Heron. 

Grind, Lucian, grind. Youth is the seed-time, 
you know ; it really is. Don't neglect it. 

Lucian. 
I hope I shall not. 

Roderick Heron. 

Bravo ! I recognise myself in you — I do indeed. 
I sometimes wish my own rascal of a son resembled 
me more, [tapping his forehead^ resembled me here, 
you know. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 23 

LlTCIAN. 

Dennis is a rare fellow in the open air. 

Rodeeick Heron. 

Ah, the dear vagabond ! But gentlemen shouldn't 
be gipsies. However, if you do well, Lucian, I shall 
be consoled and you'll gain an invaluable friend in 
Roderick Heron — really an invaluable friend. 

Lucian. 

Thanks, uncle. 

Roderick Heron. 

Beatrix, my dear, I dislike the tone of that fiddle 
of yours — I really do — it grates on me. I've heard 
of a treasure in London — in Wardour Street, in fact 
— a Geronimo Amati of 1608, a perfect beauty. I'm 
going to town to-clay and I shall open my purse- 
strings. 

Beatrix. 

Oh, uncle ! [Kneeling beside him.'] Oh, uncle, what 
is it like to be as rich as you are and to be able to do 
just as you please ? 

Roderick Heron. 

Ha, ha ! it is exceedingly pleasant ! I own it — it's 
pleasant ! Especially when a man has an idle villain 
like dear Dennis, and a nephew and niece, all hun- 
gering for sugar plums. 

Beatrix. 

[Throwing her arms round him.] Dear Uncle 
Roderick ! 



24 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

[ They all laugh cheerily. Miss Brent, a tall 
stately woman of fifty-five with silvery 
hair, and a sweet face and voice, enters 
through the vestibule. 

Roderick Heron. 
Ahem! my pets, here is Aunt Anne. 

Miss Brent. 
I've lost my chatelaine, children. 

Lucia x. 
It's on the writing-table, aunt. 

Miss Brent. 
[Attaching the chatelaine to her belt.] Ah, yes. 

Beatrix. 
[ Quietly to Lucian.] Looks solemn, doesn't she? 

LUCIAN. 

Jolly solemn. 

[Lucian and Beatrix steal tip to the window 
and sit there, looking out. 

Roderick Heron. 

You — ah — received my little note last night, dear 
Anne ? 

Miss Brent. 
Yes. 

Roderick Heron. 
All right, eh? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 25 

Miss Brent. 

Mr. Heron, you known your allowance is not due 
till Michaelmas. 

Roderick Heron. 

[Glancing quicJcly towards Lucian and Beatrix.] 
Sssh ! the young people. Know it ! My career is 
saddened by the necessity for counting the hours 
between one-quarter day and another. 

Miss Brent. 

Very well. Then, I tell you plainly, I shall advise 
Camilla not to give you a single penny beyond that 
fixed and liberal allowance. 

Roderick Heron. 

[Thrusting his hands into his pockets and tioalk- 
ing away reflectively. ~] Really, you know, damn! 
[Miss Brent takes up her knitting.^ I paid you 
a great compliment by confiding my little trouble 
to you. I ought to have gone direct to my dear 
niece. 

Miss Brent. 

A compliment? It is my impression that you 
knew Camilla would consult me. 

Roderick Heron. 

Don't be spiteful, Anne ; it's unbecoming — it 
really is. \_Coaxingly.~] Anne dear, upon my soul 
I couldn't change you a florin at this moment I'm as 
low as that, you know, really. 

Miss Brent. 
I believe you. And yet you tell me that John 



26 LADY BO UNTIFUL. 

Veale, the Baverstoke horse-dealer, sends you 
his half-yearly account for four-lmndred-and-forty 
guineas. 

Roderick Heron. 

Enormous, I admit — colossal. But look at the 
result— my son and I are the two best mounted men 
in the county. 

Miss Brent. 

It's infamous ! How dare you buy such horses 
and depend upon Camilla s paying- for them ? 

Roderick Heron. 

Confound it, Anne, dear Dennis and I must be 
kept in health. Men must ride, you know. The 
poor share one privilege with the rich — that of 
having livers. And I'm sure Camilla wouldn't 
like to see her relatives on indifferent cattle. 

Miss Brent. 

Poor Camilla! \Laying her work <isi<l<\~\ Poor 
wilful, capricious, large-hearted Camilla! The 
folks have named her Lady Bountiful for her 
liberality ; they should eall her Lady Folly for her 
pains. For shame, Mr. Heron ! 

Roderick Heron. 

For shame ! I like that ! It's I who deserve 
pity, with a boy like dear Dennis to provide for 
— by the sweat of my brow, as it were. 

Miss Brent. 

If you were a good man you'd tell Dennis the 
truth. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 27 

Roderick Heron. 

I always tell the truth. Really, Anne, you're — 
you're libellous, you know. 

Miss Brent. 

I mean, you would not keep him in the dark 
any longer. Let him know that his father is utterly 
without means, that both of you are the pen- 
sioners of a girl. 

Roderick Heron. 

This is too bad, Anne. Recollect, please, I have 
Camilla's assent that not a soul shall know my un- 
happy position. Tell one, tell all. You would rob 
me of my sole remaining consolation — the respect 
which people entertain for a well-to-do person. 

Miss Brent. 
Grant me patience ! 

Roderick Heron. 

Well, well, I really can't sympathise with your 
narrow views of family obligations. You always 
were a jarring note, Anne ; I am sorry to appear 
impolite, but you are a jarring note. [He collects 
all the newspcqjers in the room, and tucks them under 
his arm. ] I'll glance through the papers in my 
room — the papers, you know. Send my niece to 
me the very moment she comes in ; I'll not trouble 
you further in this little matter. 

Miss Brent. 
[ Clenching her hands.'] Oh ! 



28 LADY BO UNTIFUL. 

Roderick Heron. 

\_As he is going. ,] I go to town by the one-fifteen. 
May I buy you any little thing, Anne ? 

Miss Brext. 
Oh, no, no. 

Roderick Heron. 

I shall open my purse-strings. Good for evil, dear 
Anne, good for evil ! 

[lie goes out, cheerfully. 

Miss Brent. 

Oh, this man ! And, oh, poor foolish, blind Lady 
Bountiful ! 

[Camilla Brent, a sweet graceful girl of two-and- 
twenty, enters quickly, and looks around the 
room in agitation. 

Camilla. 

Lucian ! Lucian ! [ Going to Miss Brent and cling- 
ing to her.~\ Ah, aunty ! 

[Lucian and Beatrix approach her. 

Miss Brent. 
You are trembling, child. 

Camilla. 

Dennis took me to the paddock to show me the 
two hunters Uncle Roderick bought from Yeale of 
Baverstoke, and he is trying them at the six-barred 
gate. The mare clears it cleverly, but the black 
horse " Strephon " has refused it again and again, 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 29 

and I know it will end in harm to Dennis. Stop 
him, Lucian! [Stamping her foot, ~\ Lucian! 

Lucian. 
Stop him ! Dennis has never let a horse master 
him yet. 

Camilla. 
But it is dangerous. I — I can't bear it. 

[/She drops into a chair, hiding her face in 
Miss Brent's shirts. 

Miss Brent. 

Go, Lucian. [Lucian runs out.] My salts, Bea- 
trix. [Beatrix goes out. 

Lucian. 
[Outside.'] Camilla, here's Dennis! [Calling'] 
Dennis ! 

Dennis Heron, a handsome young man loith a 
bronzed face, an athletic frame, and an air of 
good-humoured indolence, saunters on / he is in 
riding dress. 

Dennis. 
Who said that black devil wouldn't clear the bar ? 

Camilla. 
[Looking at him for a minute with eager gladness^ 
then, recovering her self-possession, and drawing her- 
self up.] Who said so? I did not. 

Dennis. 
Oh, why, Camilla, you ! 

Lucian re-enters. Miss Brent retires to the window- 
seat. 



'i 



30 LAD Y BO UXTIFUL. 

Lucian, 
Did you get over, Dennis ? 

Dennis. 

Clean. " Strephon " didn't know me — lie does now. 

Camilla. 

Are you such a very formidable person when one 
knows you, may I ask? 

Dennis. 

Ask "Strephon." [Camilla lemghs lightly.'] Eh? 

Camilla. 

This display of horsemanship appears to have oc- 
curred after a certain credible witness left the scene. 

Dennis. 

"Why, you saw ! 

Camilla. 

I only saw an obstinate horse canter up to a gate 
and shake his head at it with an angry snort. 
[Ukatrix enters with a vinaigrette which she hands to 
Camilla ; who hastily slips it into her pocket."] The 
exhibition became monotonous and I withdrew. 

Dennis. 

Oh, I say, that's too bad ! Here, you youngsters, 
come into the paddock and watch me take that black 
horse over the old six-bar ! 

Camilla. 
No, no — Dennis! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 31 

Beatrix. 
Oh, yes, we'll come. 

Dennis. 

Camilla says I'm bragging. 

Camilla. 
How can you be such a child ( 

Dennis. 

Ah, but you did. Come along, Lucian. Two 
credible witnesses! 

[Dennis, Beatrix, and Lucian go out. 
Camilla is following them. 



Camilla. 
Yes, aunty ? 



Miss Brent. 
Camilla. 



Miss Brent. 
Stop here, dear. I want to speak to you. [Camilla 
sits looking anxiously out of the vnndow.'] Mr. Heron 
has written me a note to tell me he is in debt again 
and wants more money. 

Camilla. 
Well, if Mr. Heron wants more money Mr. Heron 
must have it, I suppose. 

Miss Brent. 
And how long is this state of things to continue ? 

Camilla. 
Oh, aunty, let us be happy while we may. 



32 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Miss Brent. 
So say I, dear. 

Camilla. 

Uncle Roderick was poor mother's only brother, 
her favourite. 

Miss Brent. 
Ah! 

Camilla. 
And what my mother loved, I must love. 

Miss Brent. 

Your mother did more than her duty — left him a 
small fortune. 

Camilla. 

Which dribbled away, " positively dribbled, you I 
know," Uncle Roderick 'says. 

Miss Brent. 

And afterwards, for your dead mother's sake, your 
father again provided for him. 

Camilla. 

That trickled, uncle says — " absolutely trickled, 
you know, really." Ha, ha! Poor Uncle Roderick ! 

Miss Brent. 

And then a self-willed, thoughtless girl, who is 
unhappily her own mistress, assumed obligations 
which her parents had already sufficiently discharged. 
That's you, Camilla. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 33 

Camilla. 
That is I. Camilla the Heedless — Camilla the 
Spendthrift — Camilla the Wilfully- wealthy ! And 
that's just it, aunt Anne — I'm rich. And while I'm 
rich the dear pauper whose blood I carry in my veins 
must morally break his pile of stones, and pick his 
little heap of oakum, in the shelter of my home. The 
improvident rich must nourish the improvident 
poor. 

Miss Brent. 
[Earnestly'] Yes, Camilla, but what of the improvi- 
dent poor's able-bodied son ? [Camilla glances away 
in confusion,'] Come here, girlie. 

[Camilla kneels beside Miss Brent. 

Camilla. 
Don't scold me — never scold me, clear aunt. 

Miss Brent. 
I am afraid you care for him, child. 

Camilla. 
\_Laying her head upon Miss Brent's bosom.] Oh ! 

Miss Brent. 
Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! [Camilla laughs softly.] Ah, 
don't laugh! 

Camilla. 
Let me while I can. It is not every girl who can 
smile over an unrequited passion. 

Miss Brent. 
Unrequited fiddlesticks ! 
Camij 
No — unrequited passion. Why, aunt Anne, 
3 



34 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis thinks much less of me than of " Strephon" 
the ugly black brute who wanted to pitch him over 
the gate. 

Miss Brent. 

But if one day he transferred his affections from 
his horse " Strephon" to his cousin Camilla ? 

Camilla. 

Hush ! then I should shake my head at him, be- 
cause, aunt, 

Miss Brent. 
Because ? 

Camilla. 
Because I could not marry poor Dennis. 

Miss Brext. 
All! tell me why. 

Camilla. 
I am so — disappointed. 

Miss Brext. 
Come, come, here's sense in the house at last ! 

Camilla. 
He is idle ; without an anxious thought and I fear 
with little pride ; with no occupation but to loiter in 
the stable-yard, no pleasure but in a gallop across 
country. And that is not my ideal of a husband. 

Miss Brext. 
Why, Camilla, that's well spoken ! 

Camilla. 
f Turning, impetuously.'] Ah, don't triumph at it I 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 35 

Miss Brext. 
[ Taking Camilla in her arms.'] Triumph ! my dear ! 

Camilla. 
For, oh, I have so longed for something different 
from this. 

Miss Brext. 
Different? 

Camilla. 
Aunty, I — I have believed in Dennis. I have 
watched for a sign of an honest, worthy ambition, 
and there has been nothing but indolence and in- 
difference. I have hoped to see him go into the 
world and do good because he felt himself a man, 
and not because he found himself a beggar. And 
now I see my mistake, and I — I am disappointed. 
Roderick enters briskly with the newspaper. 

Roderick Herox. 
My dear Anne — Ah, here is my Camilla. Good- 
morning, darling. 

Miss Brext. 
[Quietly to Camilla as she goes to Roderick.] Be 
firm with him ! I can do nothing. 

[She sits at the table writing. 
Roderick Herox. 
How sweet you look! Er — your aunt has men- 
tioned ? 

Camilla. 
Yes, uncle. 

Roderick Herox. 
That's right. I am in great trouble, my dear — 
really in overwhelming trouble. 



86 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
I am very sorry. 

Roderick Heron. 

I know you would, be — you're so charmingly sym- 
pathetic. I'm sympathetic myself, you know. 

Camilla. 

Aunty tells me you are in debt again, Uncle Rod- 
erick. 

Roderick Heron. 
I am bound to say that conveys a fair idea of my 
position. 

Camilla. 
[ With a glance at Miss Brent.] I — I am a little 
vexed with you. 

Roderick Heron. 
My pet, I want you to be vexed with me, you 
know. There is nothing I desire more than that 
you should say to me — sternly if you will — " There, 
Uncle Roderick, there is the paltry cheque you ask 
for, and, mind, not another penny till your next 
quarter's allowance." I want you to say this to me 
[referring to his watch - ], almost directly, in fact. 

Camilla. 
[Bending over Miss Brent's shoulder.'] What 
am I to do, aunty ? 

Miss Brent. 
Anything that's foolish. I am angry with you. 

Roderick Heron. 
[Slipping his arm through Camilla's.] Poor 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 37 

Anne — a bitter disposition. Quite as constant a 
church-goer as myself, but Heavens, what a disposi- 
tion ! Come into another room, and I'll tot up the 
few little items which are pressing upon me — de- 
priving me of rest, you know. 

Beatrix. 

[Running past the windows outside."] Here is Sir 
Richard ! 

Lucian. 

{Looking through the open window.] Sir Richard 
is here, aunt. \_He runs after Beatrix. 

Miss Brent. 
[Looking at her watch.] A boy-lover could not be 
more punctual. Heaven prosper him ! 

Camilla. 
[ To Roderick Heron.] Aunt is cross with me. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ Quietly to her.] Never mind. I'll bring you some 
pretty little object from Paris. Very likely I shall 
open my purse-strings there, you know. 

Camilla. 

[ Coaxingly to Miss Brent.] Be friends with me, 
dear. 

Miss Brent. 

Ah ! Lady Bountiful, I'll forgive you everything, 
if you do one womanly, sensible act to-day. 

Camilla. 
What is that? 



38 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Miss Brent. 
Come back to me here, and you shall know. 

Camilla. 
Of course I will. But don't forget, I must see 
dear Sir Richard. 

Miss Brent. 
[Kissing Camilla.'] Yes, you must see Sir Richard. 

Camilla. 
Now, Uncle Roderick ! I am going to scold you 
terribly. 

Roderick Heron. 
I desire it, my pet. I desire it, you know, really. 

[Roderick Heron and Camilla withdraw, 
Lucia x and Beatrix pass the windows 
with Sir Richard Philliter, then otter 
the room. Philliter is a genial man 
of fifty with a manner that is suave and 
precise. He is clean-shaven and bald, 
with a fringe of almost white hair. His 
dress is that of a country gentleman, but 
a little old-fashioned. 

Sir Richard. 
[Shaking hands with Miss Brent.] I am here. 

Miss Brent. 
\_To Sir Richard.] You have walked over from 
Baverstoke ? 

Sir Richard. 
Every yard. 

[Beatrix goes to Sir Richard and hugs his 
arm closely. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 89 

Sir Richard. 
And how's my little woman ? 

Beatrix. 
Only pretty well, thank you. Perhaps you haven't 
heard in London that I'm extremely delicate. 

Lucian. 
[Derisively. ~\ Ho, ho ! 

Beatrix. 
Aunt, pray speak to Lucian. 

Miss Brent. 
Children, I'm very selfish, and I want to talk to 
Sir Richard alone. 

Beatrix. 
[ Gloomily. ~\ Oh ! 

Miss Brent. 
Lucian, amuse Trix for half an hour. 

Lucian. 
Oh, when I'm reading so jolly hard ! 

Beatrix. 
Hear me play my violin before you go ; I astonish 
everybody. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear, if all goes well with me here, I'll stay to 
luncheon. 

Beatrix. 
If all goes well ! If all what goes well ? 

[Lucian is going up the steps. 



40 LADY BO UNTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 
Um ! Ask Camilla at tea-time : perhaps she will 
tell you. 

Beatrix. 
[Taking her violin and going up the steps.'] Lu- 
cian, always let the lady precede you. 

[She fHisses Luciax, and he follows her out. 

Miss Brext. 
Oh, Sir Richard, I am so anxious ! 

Sir Richard. 

Anxious ! 

Miss Brext. 

And you also, I know. 

Sir Richard. 
Camilla has no inkling of the object of my visit ? 

Miss Bkent. 
Not the slightest. 

Sir Richard. 

No, no. Then, of course, you have nothing en- 
couraging to tell me ? 

Miss Brext. 
Well — yes, I have. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear Miss Brent ! 

Miss Brext. 
Some obstacle which I feared might prove form- 
idable has shrunk almost to nothing. 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 41 

Sir Richard. 
Bless me ! [ Wiping his brow with a silk hand- 
kerchief.'] Ah ! May I ask if the obstacle was my 
junior ? 

Miss Brent. 
Now, come, come. If we were not acquaintances 
of twenty years' standing I could readily believe 
you to be a* man of five-and-thirty. 

Sir Richard. 
Then, ma'am, I have never before estimated your 
perception so lightly. 

Camilla. 
[Heard outside.] Sir Richard ! 

Sir Richard. 
[Nervously.] Ah ! 

Miss Brent. 
Bless you, dear friend ! 

[She goes out quickly as Camilla enters. 

Camilla. 
[Running to Philliter with outstretched hands.] 
They have left you alone ? 

Sir Richard. 
How are you, my dear ? 

Camilla. 
Glad, glad to see you. [ She offers her cheek to him 
for his kiss, but finding he does not respond she draws 
back, wonderingly, and sees he has turned away from 
her.] What is the matter ? 



42 LAD Y B UXTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 
The matter ! Sit clown, Camilla. [ She sits, with a 
perpUxed look, and he sits fading her.~] My dear, I 
have been thinking much — as one who had the confi- 
dence of your parents is, perhaps, privileged to do — 
of the changes which are likely to befall you. 

Camilla. 

Changes ? 

Sir Richard. 
Lucian comes of age shortly. 

Camilla. 
Oh, yes. 

Sir Richard. 
And it is settled that he will reside on his own 
property, at the Grange. 

Camilla. 
We go to the Grange with Lucian, Sir Richard. 

Sir Richard. 
But he will marry. 

Camilla. 
Marry ! 

Sir Richard. 
My dear, everybody marries. 

Camilla. 
Not everybody. Aunt Anne doesn't marry, you 

do not m 

Sir Richard. 
One moment, one moment. Assuming that Lucian 
marries, such an event will involve your returning 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 43 

to Fauncourt — to all intents and purposes a lonely 
woman. 

Camilla. 

I am too well and happy ever to be lonely. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear, loneliness to your sex is what gout is to 
mine. But a woman has this advantage over a man 
• — she can share her loneliness with another, while he 
cannot share his gout. Camilla, walking here from 
Baverstoke I refreshed my memory from this little 
volume [producing a small book from, his pocket and 
opening it at a turned leaf], a companion of my 
college days. 

Camilla. 
What is it? 

Sir Richard. 
The Odes of Horace. I marked a passage. Look, 
dear. 

\_He bends towards her, handing her the booh. 

Camilla. 

I see it. 

Sir Richard. 
Tell me if I know my lesson. 

" Desine, dulcium " 
" Mater sceva Cupidinum, " \_at a loss] Um? 

Camilla. 

« Circa " 

Sir Richard. 

II Circa lustra decern fectere mollibus 

" Jam durum, imperils : " 



44 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
What does it mean? 

Sir Richaed. 
Camilla, it is a cry of entreaty from a man of fifty 
to the Mother of Love beseeching her to pity him 
and pass him by. My dear — I am fifty. 

Camilla. 
[In a whisper.] Sir Richard ! 

Sie Richaed 

Perhaps, with Horace, I should send up another 
such a prayer. But, no — I come to you, an earthly 
goddess, to ask you not only to pity but to reward 
me. 

Camilla. 

I? 

Sie Richaed. 
Camilla, if you could find it in your heart to return 
the affection I bear you, you would crown my life 
with a blessing greater, I think, than can ever have 
been bestowed upon man. [She mores avyay and sits 
in amazement.'] Think, my dear, pray, think. 

[Heioalks away from her to conceal Jus agi- 
tation^ she drops the Horace, and cries. 

Camilla. 
Did Aunt Anne — know you were — to speak to 
me? 

Sie Richaed. 

Yes — yes. 

Camilla. 
Ah, she should have spared us both. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 45 

Sir Richard. 

[In a low voice.] It cannot be then ? [She slowly 
shakes her head. Then goes to the further window 
where she stands with her back towards him and her 
head bowed.] Ah ! [From the other room there come 
the sounds of a violin and a piano playing a tender 
melody. Sir Richard takes up his hat and stick.] 
Is that Beatrix? 

Camilla. 

[ Turning. ,] Yes. 

Sir Richard. 
I half promised the little woman to listen to her 
playing, but — I find I must be getting home. Will 
you make my excuse ? 

Camilla. 
Yes. 

Sir Richard. 
[ To himself"] Nero fiddled at the destruction of 
Rome — Beatrix is my Nero. [ Going to Camilla and 
gently touching her hand.'] We shall meet again soon, 
my child — very soon. 

[She gives him a quick, grateful look ; he 
nods to her smilingly. Then as he is go- 
ing out, he meets Dexnis coming in. At 
the same moment Miss Brent walks 
slowly past the window. 

Denxis. 

How are you, Sir Richard ? 

Sir Richard. 
Ah, Dennis, how are you ? Just as I am running 
away! Don't stir! Good-bye — good-bye! 



46 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dexxis. 
Good-bye ! 

[Sir Richard, goes out, and meets Miss 
Brent, and they are seen to pass the 
windows and disappear together. 

Dexxis. 

[Picks vp the book and glances at the title-page.'] 
Stupid old Horace ! Halloa, Sir Richard left his 
book ! 

[He is about to call after Sir Richard when 
Camilla takes the book from him quickly. 

Camilla. 
No, no — I want to keep that. 

Dennis. 

Why, you've been crying ! 

Camilla. 
Indeed, I — I — I am going to my room. 

[She goes towards the door and he follows 
her. 

Dennis. 
I hate to see you bothered about anything. 

Camilla. 
Excuse me, Dennis. 

Dexxis. 
Look here — Beatrix let out about you. 

Camilla. 
What do you mean ? 

Dexxis. 
You were scared at my tussle with " Strephon." 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 47 

Camilla. 
Beatrix is becoming a very troublesome child. 

Dexxis. 
Don't blame her. Besides, I—I like you to want 
me not to come to grief. 

Camilla. 
Poor, unhappy Dennis ! 

Dexxis. 
Why do you call me that ? 

Camilla. 
Aren't very conceited people unhappy ? I think 
I will go out. 

Dexxis. 
I'll come with you. 

Camilla. 
[Putting on her hat.'] No, thank you. 

Dexxis. 
I've nothing to do, you know. 

Camilla. 

[Contemptuously.] Oh, I know. But I'm going 
to talk to some of my old people. 

Dexxis. 
That'll do for me — awful fun. 

Camilla. 
[Eyeing him disdainfully.] Fun ! 

[She is nervously trying to adjust the veil of 
her hat, 



48 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 

Here ! I can do that ; that's what I can do. 

[He assists her ; she stamjis her foot 

Camilla. 

You are not to walk with me, I tell you. 

Dexxis. 

I am though. [Surveying her hat.'] Jolly ! 

[She takes off her hat and throws it upon the 
table. 

Camilla. 
[Sitting doicn.] I do not go out before luncheon. 

Dexxis. 
Eh? 

Camilla. 
[Emphatically^ I do not go out before luncheon. 

Dexxis. 
Camilla, what has come between you and me? I 
can't make it out. We are — cousins. 

Camilla. 
Really ? 

Dexxis. 

Nowadays, I don't know when you'll be pleased 
or when you'll be cross with me ; sometimes it's a 
smile and a black look at the same moment. I can't 
make it all out ; because Ave — we're cousins. 

Camilla. 
If our disagreements are painful, let us avoid each 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 49 

other. Why do you stay here just now, for in- 
stance ? 

Dennis. 

[Sitting on the other side of the table]. Because I 
do not go out before luncheon. 

Camilla. 

[Laughing helplessly]. Ha, ha ! [Half tearfully .] 
What a simple fellow you are, Dennis ! 

Dennis. 
Ha, ha, ha ! that's like yourself. I don't mind 
being chaffed — go on. I say, we haven't played 
chess for centuries. 

\_He goes to the table and fetches chessboard 
and chessmen. 

Camilla. 
I don't care for chess any longer. 

Dennis. 

Oh, yes, you do. You're awfully keen on chess. 

[She turns her back, but not disconcerted he 
sits facing her, placing the board upon 
their knees. 

Camilla. 
If I must be wearied with chess, we'll go back to 
the table, please. 

Dennis. 

No, no — it's jollier nursing it. 

[They arrange the chessmen ; she quickly, he 
deliberately. 

4 



50 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
We'll not play like old gentlemen — a move a 
month. 

Dennis. 

Heaps of time. 

Camilla. 

Oh! 

Dennis. 
Neither of us goes out before luncheon. Ha, ha ! 

Camilla. 
You ride your joke as you do your horse, till it is 
subdued: [Moving a chessman.] There! 

[ They play, both holding their heads down. 

Dennis. 

\_Quieth/~]. Cam. [She dor* not answer.] Cam, 
you're not really turning against me, are you? 

Camilla. 
Of what consequence is it ? 

Dennis. 
I don't believe I can get along if you turn against 
me. 

Camilla. 

I've heard of nothing which you make it neces- 
sary to get along with. 

Dennis. 

I'm an idler, you mean ? 

Camilla. 
[ Watching the board intently.'] You to move, 
Dennis. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 51 

Dennis. 
Yes, you're always telling me that, and, do you 
know, Cam, I've been thinking lately- 

Camilla. 
Thinking ! 

Dennis. 
Well, when there's no hunting a man must think. 
I've been thinking that it might be better for me if 
I were ridden with spurs 

Camilla. 
Spurs ? 

Dennis. 
If I had firm hands over me ; some one who would 
ride me out for the little I'm worth, to the end ; if I 
had — a friend. 

Camilla. 
Idle people cultivate one branch of industry as- 
siduously — the manufacture of excuses. You have 
friends. 

Dennis. 
Have I ? \_Looking at Camilla wistfully.'] You ? 

Camilla. 
I — I am very well disposed towards you. 

Dennis. 

Yes. [Leaning towards her.] But somehow I've 
hoped lately — I've hoped 

Camilla. 
[ /Shrinking from him.] Oh ! 



52 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 

I've hoped you might grow to think of me — dif- 
ferently from that way. 

[There is a moment of irresolution on her port. 
Then, with a quick shake of the head, she 
sweeps the chess-board to the ground and 
starts up. lie rises with her. 

Camilla. 
Dennis ! 

Dennis. 

Cam ! 

Camilla. 
You've no right to speak to me like this ! 

Dennis. 
No right ? Why, a man doesn't love by right. 

Camilla. 
A man should love by right ; by the right of some 
achievement which deserves reward, or some failure 
which earns consolation. But you ! 

Dennis. 

I know what you mean. Idle at school ; in the 
wrong set at college ; and now, if I started in the 
race a boy could head me. 

Camilla. 
[ To herself] Ah ! 

Dennis. 

And so I beg your pardon for dreaming you could 
stoop to pick up a weed from the bricks of your 
stable-yard. 

\_lle turns away, she follows him a step or two. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 53 

Camilla. 
Dennis, it isn't great men women love clearest, or 
eveiTfortunate men ; often I tell yon, their deepest 
love goes out to those who labour and fail. Bnt for 
those who make no effort, who are neither great nor 
little, who are the nothings of the world 

Dennis. 
Who are the Dennis Herons of the world ! 

Camilla. 
For those, a true woman has only one feeling — 
anger and contempt ! 

Dennis. 

[As if struck by a blow.] Contempt ! [She pauses, 
startled, seeing a strange look on his face. .] Contempt ! 

Camilla. 
Dennis ! I am sorry. The wretched word spoke 
itself. Dennis ! [He is silent, staring before him.'] 
Speak to me. 

Dennis. 
[In a stifled voice.] Contempt ! 

[His head drops upon his breast ; she looks 
at him appealingly, then waits for him 
to speak, but he remains silent, never 
moving. She goes out quietly. Floyce 
enters. 

Floyce. 
I beg yonr pardon, Mr. Dennis — Mr. Yeale of 
Baverstoke. 

Dennis. 

To see me? 



54 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Floyce. 
An appointment with Miss Brent, I believe, sir. 

Dennis. 

You'd better bring him in here. 

Floyce. 
He's with his — family, to all appearances, sir. 

Dennis. 
Find Miss Brent. [Floyce goes out. 

Floyce. 

[ Outside.'] This way, please. 

[Floyce shows in John Yeale a good-look- 
ing, hearty, " horsey " man of fifty, well 
dressed, according to the fashion of his 
class ; Mks Yeale, a portly, vi ell-preserved 
woman of three- and- forty attired in her 
"&es£,"a>ic£ Margaret, a handsome, com- 
monplace girl of twenty, dressed like her 
mother, a little too smartly. Floyce goes 
out. 

Ye ale. 

[Shaking hands with Dennis heartily.'] How d'ye 
do, Mr. 'Eron, how d'ye do ? Surprised to see Mrs. 
Yeale and Margaret at Fauncourt, I dessay ? 

Dennis. 
[Shaking hands with Mrs. Yeale.] How are you, 
Mrs. Yeale ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Nicely, thank you. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 55 

Dennis. 
[Shaking hands with Margaret.] And you, Meg? 

Margaret. 

Thanks, Mr. Dennis. 

Veale. 

[To Mrs. Veale.] Mother. 

[Mrs. Veale takes his hat from him, un- 
buttons his coat, unwinds his muffler, and 
removes his gloves. The muffler and 
gloves she deposits in the hat, which never 
leaves her. 

Veale. 
Thank ye, mother. 

Dennis. 
Sit down, Mrs. Veale. 

Mrs Veale. 

Much obliged, I'm sure. 

[She sits icith some importance, nursing: 
John's hat. Margaret sits watching 
Dennis. 

Veale. 

The fact is, Mr. 'Eron, I had a telegram last night 
from Miss Brent askin' me to come over this morning 
without fail. Nothing amiss in the stables, I 'ope ? 

Dennis. 

Not that I'm aware of. 



56 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Ye ALE. 

No. Well, sir — [looking tinder his chair and on 
the table — to Mes. Yeale.] Have you got my 'at, 

'Etty ? 



Yes, John. 



Mrs. Yeale. 



Ye ale. 



Thank ye. Well, it put me in a bit of a fix, you 
see, for we're all packing oil to town to-day, Mr. 
'Eron. 



A holiday ? 



Dennis. 



Yeale. 



Holiday ! What d'ye think, sir ?— I've sold the 
stables and goodwill at JBaverstoke and bought a new 
business in London. 

Mes. Yeale. 
The West End of London. 

Yeale. 

Ay, the West End. You see, Mr. 'Eron, Baver- 
stoke has been good enough for me, but it ain't quite 
appropriate for such as Mrs. Yeale [pointing to 
Mes. Yeale.] Mr. 'Eron, for years I've been 'iding 
that lady's light under a bushel. 

Mes. Yeale. 

Yery good of you to say so, father. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 57 

Veale. 

You mayn't know it, sir, but Mrs. Yeale was Miss 
'Enrietta Wilcox — 'Etty for short. 

Dennis. 
Indeed? 

Veale. 

And two-and- twenty years ago she was as smart 
a Park rider as London could show. Many a 
London aristocrat owes her 'ands and seat to the 
teachin's of Miss 'Enrietta Wilcox, though I say 
it. 

Mrs. Veale. 

I can't deny that. 

Veale. 

Well, sir, Miss Wilcox comes down to Baverstoke 
with her father, buying 'orses, sees a smart young 
fellow just starting trade, and falls mad in love with 
him. Heh, 'Etty ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
The other way round, I'm thinking. 

Veale. 

Hah, mother ! 

Mrs. Veale. 

]_Nudging him with his hat. Go along ! 

\_IIe laughs asthmatically. She takes a col- 
oured handkerchief from her handbag 
and hands it to him. 



58 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Veale. 

Thank ye [mopping his brow]. And so, sir, now 
that I can turn myself round, as the sayin' is, 'Etty's 
going to town to show 'em that fifteen stone can sit 
as graceful and elegant to-day as nine-stone-six did 
two-and-twenty years ago. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Lor', John, how you do rattle on. 

Veale. 

[Returning his handkerchief to Mrs. Veale who 
n places it in the handbag. ~] Thank ye. [ To Dennis.] 
And that's how you see us, sir. As I felt bound to 
obey Miss Brent's honoured commands we drove over 
from Baverstoke intendin' to get the up train at 
Lydgate at one-fifteen. How's your father! A fine 
gentleman, your father. Your looking a bit out o' 
condition, if you'll excuse the liberty. 

Dennis. 

I? Oh, no. 

Veale. 
Tell me about them 'orses, Mr. 'Eron. 

[Dennis and Veale talk together. 

Margaret. 

[ To Mrs. Veale — in an undertone."] Ma, you don't 
think Mr. Dennis is going to get into any scrape, do 
you? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Lor', how? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 59 

Margaret. 

Through running into debt to pa for that black 
hunter. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 

Why the hunter's a present from his own father. 

Margaret. 

Is it ? Then why does he look so different to-day ? 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
Different ! 

Margaret. 

From when we've seen him laughing and chatting 
in our yard at Baverstoke. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 

Gracious, Meg, what eyes you have ! P'rhaps he's 
bilious. 

Margaret. 
Ma! 

[Miss Brent enters.'] 

Miss Brent. 
Good-morning, Mr. Yeale. 

Ye ALE. 

Morning to you, ma'am. I hope you'll excuse the 
intrusion, but me and my folk are on our way to 
London which obleeges me to answer your telegram 
with self and family, so to speak. Mrs. Yeale — my 
daughter, Margaret — Miss Brent. 



60 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Veale. 
I hope I see you well, I'm sure. 

[Miss Brent inclines her head politely to 
Mrs. Veale, then rings the bell. 

Veale. 

[ Seem ingly disappointed. ] Mrs. Veale was formerly 
Miss 'Enrietta Wilcox, well-known in the West End 
of London and all the principal 'orse-shows. 

Miss Brent. 

Indeed. While I speak a few words with you, Mr. 
Veale, your wife and daughter will, I hope, take some 
refreshment in another room. [Floyce appear s.~\ 
Floyce [Instructing him in an undertone^ 

Mrs. Veale. 

[ To Veale.] I didn't know I was to he in the 
way, John ! 

Veale. 
No, 'Etty, my dear ; no, no. 

[Miss Brent looks at Mrs. Veale who sails 
across the room, followed by Margaret. 

Mrs. Veale. 

\_At the door.'] John — remember I have your hat. 

[Mrs. Veale and Margaret go out, followed 
by Floyce. 

Miss Brent. 
Sit down. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 61 

Ye ALE. 

Thank ye. [Dennis is going away. 

Miss Brent. 

Dennis — you ought to hear what passes between 
Mr. Veale and myself. Forgive me ; you'll under- 
stand by-and-by. Mr. Veale, I may tell you at once 
that so far as Mr. Roderick Heron's money-matters 
are concerned, I am — in his confidence. 

Ye ALE. 

No gentleman could 'ave a better adviser, I'm sure, 
ma'am. 

Miss Brent. 

Unhappily my advice has little weight — which 
brings me to the point. Mr. Yeale, Mr. Heron tells 
me he owes you four-hundred-and-forty guineas. 

Yeale. 

That's right, ma'am. But I heartily 'ope he won't 
let it worry him. 

Miss Brent. 

He will not. 

Yeale. 

Glad to hear it — because I've always found Mr. 
'Eron readier to overpay than to underpay, and as 
prompt as a prince. 

Miss Brent. 

Quite so — that is precisely Mr. Heron's character. 
Therefore I send for you, believing you to be an hon- 



62 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

est man, to make you this earnest, confidential re- 
quest. 

Ye ALE. 

Cert'nly, ma'am, cert'nly. 

Miss Brent. 

To request that, as Mr. Heron's liberality is apt 
to outrun his discretion, you will, in all future deal- 
ings with him, first consult me. [Dexnis looks from 
one to the other.] You consent, or decline? 

Y::ale. 

Neither, ma'am. You've come to the wrong 
party ; I've sold my business to Mr. Joseph Bat- 
tersby of Barcombe and I've cleared out of Baver- 
stoke for good and all. 

Miss Brent. 

Ah. Thank you. [She rings the bell. 

Ye ALE. 

\_To himself.'] Fancy that now! I could a'took 
my oath he was a millionaire. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ Colli ng outside.] Dennis! Dennis! [Roderick 
enters, immaculately dressed in Loncton fashion, and 
carrying a cheque book.] I hunt everywhere for you, 
dear Dennis. Ah, Veale, I'm delighted with the 
hunters, you know — really delighted. By-the-by, 
look out for a match for my roan mare : I'm in want 
of a smart pair for driving — in terrible want, you 
know. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 63 

[Floyce enters.] 

Miss Brent. 

Mr. Yeale, the servant will take you to your wife 
and daughter. 

Roderick Heron. 

Good-bye — good-bye. 

\_He sits at the writing-table, writing busily and 
humming a chansonette. Veale glances 
at Dennis, who is standing with his head 
bowed in thought: at the door he turns 
and boios to Miss Brent. 

Miss Brent. 

Good-morning. 

Veale. 

\_In a whisper.] There's some mistake. I could 
a'took my oath he was a millionaire ! 

\_IIe folloics Floyce out. 

Roderick Heron. 

I'm writing you a cheque, my dear Dennis. You 
may want pocket-money while I'm gone ; I try to 
think of everybody. 

Dennis. 

\_In a whisper.] Miss Brent ■! [She comes to him,] 
Tell me — is there any good reason for what you said 
to Veale? 

Miss Brent. 

Yes, Dennis. 



64 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 
You — you don't mean that dad is — hard up ? 
Miss Brent. 

Yes, Dennis, I do. 

Dennis. 

[ With a groan."] Oh! No wonder she despises me. 

He's poor and I ! 

\_IIe drops into a chair leaning his head on 
/lis hands. 

Miss Brext. 

Dennis, you should have "been told long since. 
Your father's fortune went years ago — he has no 
means — he is penniless. 

Dennis. 

What ! It's not true — it's impossible ! Why, 

how ? 

Miss Brext. 

Hush ! Dennis, he lives upon the bounty of Ca- 
milla. 

[Dennis remain* quite still. Roderick jumps 
up flourishing his cheque. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ Looking out of window."] Ah, there's Camilla! 
\ Calling.] My darling, come and say good-bye! I'm 
just off to town, Camilla. 

Dennis. 
Camilla ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 65 

Roderick Heron. 

[Handing Dennis the cheque.] My dear boy. [ With 
a look at Roderick, Dennis takes the cheque and 
stands staring at it.'] Dennis ! 

[Camilla enters.] 

Camilla. 

[ To Roderick.] Are you going, uncle ? 

Dennis. 

I want to speak to Camilla, alone. 

Camilla. 

[Looking at Dejotcs.] Ah! \_In a whisper.] What 
has happened ? 

Dennis. 
[Harshly.] I want to speak to Camilla, alone. 

Roderick Heron. 
Certainly, dear Dennis, certainly. 

Camilla. 

[Whispering to Miss Brent.] He knows — you 
have told him ? 

Miss Brent. 

Yes. , Mr. Heron — Mr. Heron. 

[Roderick joins Miss Brent, and they go 
out together. 

Dennis. 

[Holding the cheque before Camilla.] My fathei 
has given me this money. 



66 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
Yes, Dennis ? 

Dennis. 

It is not his money that he gives. It is yours. It 
is yours. 

Camilla. 
Well? 

Dennis. 

I — I'm not ready at saying what I mean. I dare 
say I'm slow-witted. But, look here ! God knows 
you're a generous woman — none can gainsay that — 
but — in bringing me to this humiliation, you've done 
me — a wrong. 

\_IIe tears the cheque into pieces and lets them 
flutter to her feet, then he turns away. 

Camilla. 
Uncle desired to keep his position a secret 

Dennis. 

Oh! 

Camilla. 

But I meant to tell you, hereafter. Only I have 
been hoping to see you discontented with your still, 
dull life. 1 have thought you would one day form 
some plan for your future — some ambitious scheme 
such as comes to most men — and then you should 
have learnt my share in making your career. 

Dennis. 

And when the time passed and I remained what 
I am? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 67 

Camilla. 

Then I was — sorry. 

Dennis. 

Sorry ! Yes, and still kept me, as you'd keep a 
ragged boy, with the privilege of holding me in 
your contempt ! Your — contempt ! 

[The music of the violin and piano is heard 
again. 

Camilla. 
You're a little hard, Dennis. 

Dennis. 

Yes — on myself. But you — [his voice breaking'] 
God bless you ! We may not have another chance 01 
meeting before I get out of Fauncourt [holding out 
his hand], so — Good-bye. 

Camilla. 

[Starting, then drawing herself up with cold dignity.] 
As you please. Good-bye. 

[She takes his hand and goes out, leaving him lean- 
ing against a table.] 

END OP THE FIKST ACT. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 



THE -SECOND ACT. 

DENNIS SETS FOOT IX A NEW WORLD. 

[The scene is a large living-room, which serves also as 
an office, at the Hyde Park Riding Academy, 
with sliding doors opening on to a gallery which 
overlooks the riding-school, There is a cheerful, 
"horsey" business-like look about the place. 
Three months have elapsed since the events of the 
previous act. 

Johx Ye ale is busy with his account-books at a high 
desk; whih Mrs.Veale, in a riding-habit of not 

the latest fash in,/, is sitting at the breakfast-table 
cutting bread and butter. 

Mrs. Veale. 

John! John! \_He makes no answer."] Shut your 
books, father, and come to breakfast. 

Veale. 

Comin', 'Etty. [Approaching her.'] What a 
picture you look ! 

Mrs. Veale. 
Go along, now ! 

Veale. 

The smartest woman Tve seen in London. Bless 
her! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 69 

\_He kisses her, as Amelia, a clean, but in- 
significant servant-girl, enters loith some 
breakfast things on a tray. 

Mrs. Veale. 

The gal! [Pushing him away. Amelia places the 
things on the table ; then leaves a copy of the " Lon- 
don Journal" on another table.'] [To Veale.] You 
should be more mindful ; it does put such ideas in a 
young gal's head. 'Melia. 

Amelia. 
What say, m'm ? 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
Call Miss Margaret. 

Amelia. 

Yes, m'm ; she do lie late. Oh, and please, m'm, 
Wimple is wishful for to speak to master. 

Mrs. Veale, 
Send him upstairs. 

Amelia. 

Yes, m'm. [Amelia goes out. 

Veale. 

What's Wimple want ? Something's wrong again 
with that mare o' yours, I expect, 'Etty. 

Amelia*. 
[ Calling outside.] Miss Marg'rit ! Miss Marg'rit ! 



70 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Veale. 

I'm afeard " Starlight " isn't quite up to your 
weight, mother. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Upon my word, Veale, it's most unfeeling in you 
to cast such reflections. 

Veale. 
Reflections, 'Etty, my darling ! 

[Margaret, with a bright face and rosy cheeks, and 
dressed in a smart riding-habit enters briskly. 

Margaret. 

Good morning! [Kissing Mrs. Veale.] Ain't I 
lazy? [Kissing Veale.] Oh, pa, how glum you 
look! 

Veale. 
I've gone and upset your mother, Meg. 

Margaret. 

Not you. What's to eat ? 

[Veale helps Margaret. 

Mrs. Veale. 

[Pouring out tea — bitterly.'] Your father's found 
out that " Starlight " isn't up to my weight ; that's 
the latest. 

Margaret. 
I don't think she is, ma, if you want the truth. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 71 

Veale. 
Be quiet ! Erritating your mother ! 

Mrs. Ye ale. 

Oh, don't stop her ! Now that Miss Margaret 
Veale's found fit to give lessons in the Hyde Park 
Riding Academy Miss Henrietta Wilcox may take a 
very back seat. 

Veale. 
Never. 

Mrs. Veale. 

Though I have lost eighteen pounds solid weight 
since we came to Knightsbridge ; eighteen pounds in 
three months. 

Veale. 

[ Soothingly] . Don't overdo it, mother, don't over- 
do it. 

Mrs. Veale. 
I half starve myself, I know that. 

Veale. 
You do indeed, 'Etty. 

Mrs. Veale. 
I'll trouble you for some of that steak, John. 
[Amelia enters.]. 

Amelia. 
'Ere's Wimple. 

Wimple the groom, enters in his shirt- sleeves, but 
Amelia assists him to put on his coat. 



72 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Wimple. 

Mornin', missus — mornin', guv'nor. [ To Amelia.] 
Private. 

[lie shows Amelia to the door. 

Ye ALE. 

What is it ? 

Wimple. 

Business interview. [Handing a small piece of 
soiled and crumpled paper to Mrs. Veale. Dooly 
written, I b'lieve. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 

[Passing the paper to Veale.] I haven't got my 
spectacles. 

Ye ALE. 

Whose scribble's this ? 

Wimple. 
That's my sister-in-law's 'and. 

Veale. 

Can't make it out. [Giving the paper to Mar- 
garet.] Here, Meg. 

Margaret. 

[Shrinking from it.~] Don't pa! Tell pa what it 
is, Wimple, directly. 

Wimple. 

It is my notice for to quit and leave the 'yde Park 
Ridin' Academy at the week end. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 73 

Veale. 
[Violently.'] What for? 

Mrs. Veale. 
Now, John ! 

Wimple. 

I can no longer stand, or put up with, the 'igh-and- 
mighty tone took towards me and them under me 
by the ridin'-master — this yer Mr. Dennison. 

Veale. 
Oh! 

Mrs. Veale. 
Well, I never ! 

Margaret. 

What have you got to say to pa about Mr. Den- 
nison ? 

Wimple. 

Well, look 'ere, miss. In the old guv'nor's time 
the ridin'-masters and me was — well, chummv: 
friendly dooring work and takin' pleasure in e r 
other's society after hours. 

Margaret. 
Very likely. But Mr. Dennison 

Mrs. Veale. 

Be quiet, Meg ! 

Wimple. 

Now, with this yer Mr. Dennison, it ain't " Mr. 
Wimple, oblige me by doing this yer or that there," 



74 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

but it's " Wimple, put a saddle on Kitty and look 
sharp about it ! " and I 'ave known him say " Wim- 
ple, when you go to your dinner leave word where 
a letter will find yer." 

Veale. 
Ah! 

Wimple. 

And so I've made up my mind, guv'nor, as follows 
— either I go or this yer Dennison goes. 

Veale. 

Very well, Wimple ; I'll meet your views with 
pleasure. 

Wimple. 

[Beamingly.] Thank yer, guv'nor, I noo you 
would. You ken tear up that dockyment, miss. 
Don't be 'ard on this yer Dennison, guv'nor ; I don't 
ask that. 

Veale. 

[Eating.] Thank ye. 

Margaret. 
[Scornfully.'] Hah! 

Wimple. 

Give 'im a character. I never see his like on a 
'orse; it's 'is manner on terry -firmer what queers 
'im. Nice mornin', ain't it. 

Margaret. 
[ To herself.'] Impudent fellow ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 75 

Wimple. 

[Opening the door, then returning quickly.'] 'Ere ! 
Look — 'ere ! Am I fallin' into any error ? I said I 
go or this yer Dennison goes — didn't I ? 

Veale. 
You did. 

Wimple. 
Well, who goes ? 

Veale, 
You go. 

[Dennis Heron enters in riding dress."] 

Dennis. 

Wimple, the tan hasn't been raked over in the 
school yet. Don't fall asleep downstairs. 

Wimple. 
'Ere, I— ! Well— I— ! Oh, crikey ! 

[Wimple goes out, 
Dennis. 
Good-morning. 

Veale and Mrs. Veale. 
Good-morning. 

Veale. 
'Ave a bit o' breakfast, sir? 

Dennis. 
Mrs. Veale shall give me a cup of tea, if she will. 



76 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Margaret. 

[Coming to him, offering to take his hat and coat."] 
Take my place, Mr. Deimison ; I've finished. 

Dennis. 

Thank you, Meg — why should you trouble ? 

[lie hangs up his hat and coat. 

Margaret. 
[Calling at the door.~\ Amelia! 

Dennis. 
Busy day, T hope, Veale ? 

Veale. 
Pretty fair, sir ; pretty fair. 

[Amelia appears in the doorway. 

Margaret. 

A cup and saucer for Mr. Dennison. [In a ichis- 
per.~\ One of ma's best cups. 

[Amelia disappears, Margaret sits, and 
takes xip the " London Journal " which 
she cuts with her fingers. 

Veale. 

You're the punctualist young gentlemen we've 
ever had dealings with, Mr. Dennison. 

Dennis. 
[Sitting at the table. I'm a new broom, Veale. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 77 

Ye ALE. 

Not tired of a bit of work yet, sir ? 

[Margaret looks up. 

Dennis. 

Tired ! I've a poor man's best encouragement — I 
can't afford to get tired. 

Ye ALE. 

[Standing on the hearthrug and smoking a cigarette^ 
Ha, ha ! How your dear father would scold us if he 
'eared you describin' yourself as a poor man ! 

Dennis. 

I daresay ; there's a little difference between my 
father and me on that point, Yeale. 

Ye ALE. 

I know, sir, I know. But he's a very affable 
gentleman, your father, sir — one of the affablest 
gentlemen Tve met. 

[Amelia enters ivith a cup and saucer. ~\ 

Mrs. Yeale. 
'Melia, this is my best china ! 

Margaret. 
[ Under her breathy Ma ! 

Amelia. 

Miss Mar 'grit— 



78 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Margaret. 

[ To Amelia.] S-s-sh ! 

[Amelia goes out. 

Dennis, 

\Pu-%hing another cup and saucer towards Mrs. 
Veale.] .Never mind ; this will do for me. 

Margaret. 

No — that's my cup ! 

Mrs. Veale. 

[Pouring out tea.~\ Well, it won't poison Mr. 
Dennison, child. 

Margaret turns her face from the breakfast- 
table in confusion. 

Veale. 

'Ave you seen your poor dear father lately, Mr. 
Dennison ? 

Dexxis. 
No, Veale. 

Veale. 

Thought he might 'ave called on you at your 
lodging. He 'asn't been near us for — 'ow long, 
mother ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
More'n a week, John. 

Veale. 

Ah. One of the friendliest gentlemen we've ever 
known, your father, sir. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 79 

Dennis. 
Yes. What's the day's work, Veale? 

Veale. 

The day's work ? [ Going to the desk, talcing up a 
long parchment-covered book, and reading. - ] Ten- 
thirty. 'Alf-an-hour on the road ; old gentleman o' 
the name of Trotman, 95a, Sloane Street. Mr. 
Dennison. 

Dennis. 

\_Making notes.] All right. 

Veale. 

Eleven-thirty. Class in school ; Miss Cheeseman's 
Young Ladies. Mr. Dennison and Miss Veale. 



All right. 
All right. 



Dennis. 

Margaret. 



Veale. 

Twelve o'clock. Hour on the road. Miss Car- 
delloe ; Miss Charlotte Cardelloe ; Miss Hubertina 
Cardelloe ; Master Philip Cardelloe. Cadogan Square. 
[Zookitig at Mrs. Veale with pride.] Miss 'Enrietta 
Wilcox — Mrs. Veale ! 

Mrs. Veale. 
Ah! 

Veale. 
The foregoing are a nervous family. 



80 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Why don't you hire me out with a bath-chair, 
John? 

Yeale. 

'Etty, my dear. [Resuming. ~\ Twelve-thirty. 9, 
Porchester Mansions ; Miss dc Yere. Kidin'-master 
to wait if the young person's not down. Mr. Den- 
nison. 

Margaret. 

\_To herself, with a stamp of her foot"] Oh! 

A' KALE. 

Three o'clock. Hour in the Park. Lady Spilsbury 
and the Honourable Miss Bunce. Miss 'Enrietta 
Wilcox — Mrs. Yeale. 

Mbs. Yeale. 
The Park. 

Yeale. 

Hah, mother! Four o'clock. Class in school- 
Mr. Dennison and Miss Yeale. 

Dexxis. 
Sloane Street — ten-thirty. I'm off. 

[Mrs. Yeale rings the bell and removes some 
of the breakfast things. 

Yeale. 

[Throwing back the sliding doors and ccdling.~] 
Wimple ! 

Margaret assists Dexxis icith his coat. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL, 81 

Dennis. 



Thanks. 



r Amelia enters, carrying a tray, and clears 
the table, assisted by Mrs. Yeale. 

Yeale. 

[Leaning over the balustrade of the gallery. ,] Now 
then, Wimple ! 

Wimple. 

[From the riding-school below.~\ Yessir ? 

Ye ALE. 

Saddle " Juno " and " Sunshine" for Mr. Denni- 
son, d'rectly. 

Wimple. 

Right, guv'nor. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ Calling from the riding-school bslow.~\ How do 
you do, dear Mr. Yeale, how do you do ? 

Ye ALE. 

Bless me, it's Mr. 'Eron. Come up them stairs, 
sir ! That's right ! Mind your 'ead, Mr. 'Eron ! 

Roderick Heron. 

[Outside, but nearer.'] A delightful morning — 
really a delightful morning. [Entering and shaking 
hands with Yeale.] The kind of morning which 
makes a man a better man, a more generous man. 
[/Shaking hands with Dennis.] Ah, here is — [glanc- 
ing at Amelia] dear Mr. Dennison. [To Mar- 

6 



82 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

garet.] And Miss Veale, looking prettier than 
ever. 

Margaret. 
Oh, Mr. Heron ! 

Roderick Heron. 

And Mrs. Veale too — Mrs. Veale in her habit as 
she lives. Good morning, Amelia, [dropping some 
silaer upon the tray che is carrying.'] A new ribbon 
for Sunday, Amelia. 

Amelia. 

Oh, thank you, sir. [Amelia does out. 

Roderick Heron. 

I never give myself the pleasure of dropping in 
here "without realising one pleasant fact — the Veale 
household is a happy household, a simple household, 
a delightful household. 

Veale. 
Much obliged to Mr. 'Eron ; eh, mother ? 

Mrs. Vkau:. 
That we are, John. 

Roderick Heron. 

There is only one jarring note, if I may be per- 
mitted to observe it — [pointing to Dennis] — the 
curious spectacle of the son of — shall I say a well- 
to-do parent V 

Dexnis. 

[ To Roderick.] Father ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 83 

Roderick Heron. 

The son of a well-to-do and indulgent parent 
labouring under the Quixotic notion that a young 
man ought to do some kind of work, you know. 

Dennis. 

We won't talk about that, just now. I'm going 
out to give half an hour's lesson. 

Roderick: Herox. 

Are you ? Now that amuses me, you know — the 
idea is so whimsical. Well, do your duty ; always do 
what you consider your duty. Dear Mrs. Yeale will 
let me stay till you come back, I dare say. 

[Dexxis goes out on to the gallery where 
Margaret is now standing, 

Dex t xis. 
\ As he goes towards the steps."] Good-bye, Meg. 

Margaret. 
[Looking after him.'] Good-bye, Mr. Dennison. 

Roderick Heron. 

[Quietly to Veale eyeing Margaret and Mrs. 
Veale.] Ahem ! my dear Veale, 

Veale. 

All right, sir. Meg, run away for a minute, my 
dear. 

Margaret. 
Yes, pa. [She goes out. 



84 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick Heron. 

\_To John, looking at Mns. Veale whose bach is 
turned towards them.'] Mrs. Yeale, eh? 

Veale. 
Well, sir, I hope you'll excuse me, but I've taken 
the liberty of mentioning this little matter of busi- 
ness to Mrs. Veale. 'Etty, my dear. 

Roderick Heron. 
I To himself .] Really, you know, damn! [To 
Veale.] Now I am quite charmed to hear that we 
have taken Mrs. Veale into our confidence. I was 
about to suggest it — I really was. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Lor', sir, he hasn't told me much. 

Roderick Heron. 

For shame, Veale, for shame ! You should have 
no secrets from Mrs. Veale. 

Veale. 
Well, Mr. 'Eron, I 'adn't much to tell. 

Mrs. Veale. 

Why, no, sir ; all John knows is that you've asked 
him to write his name to a — what is it, father ? 

Veale. 
Bill of Exchange, 'Etty. 

Roderick Heron. 
Precisely — Bill of Exchange, you know. I open 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 85 

my heart to you, dear Mrs. Yeale ; a woman's sym- 
pathy is very precious 

Mrs. Yeale. 

\_3foving about with a duster. ~\ Much obliged I'm 
sure, sir. 

Roderick Herox. 

I'm sympathetic myself, you know. Now I in- 
tend this morning to exercise one of the privileges 
of a man of means ; I am going to shift a portion of 
a very considerable income from the future to the 
present. Men of imagination call this an act of pe- 
cuniary prophesy, but it is what is familiarly known 
as an advance. An advance, you know. 

Veale. 
Yes, sir, I know. 

Roderick Herox. 
Now I mustn't boast, but by obtaining this advance 
from my friend, Mr. Benson of Burlington Street, I 
shall be able to make the approaching Christmas a 
joyous one for many persons ; in point of fact, I shall 
open my purse-strings rather wider this Christmas 
than usual. It's a delightful feeling, you know, 
really a delightful feeling. Yeale, I am to present 
you to Mr. Benson in Burlington Street, at eleven o' 
clock. 

Yeale. 
[Looking inquiringly at Mrs. Yeale.] Eh, 'Etty ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 
H'm ! you'll excuse me, I hope, Mr. Heron, for 
what I'm going to say 



86 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick Heron. 
Charmed, you know. 

Mrs. Veale. 

I'm sure no one could be more sensible than me 
and John of the honour of being on such friendly 
tennis with gentry — eh, father? 

Veale. 
We take it as a great compliment, sir — that we do. 

Roderick Heron. 

My good souls, you've been exceedingly indulgent 
to my mistaken boy, and I like you. There — now 
you have it — I like you. 

Thank ye, sir. 

Mi:s. Veale. 

Thank you, Mr. Heron. Only neither John nor I 
understands much about this sort of business, and 
what little we do know of it frightens us. Now it's 
out. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ Taking Z\Trs. Vk ile's hand gallantly.'] Then my 
dear Mrs. Veale, let me acknowledge the honour 
you do me in entrusting your husband's welfare to 
my keeping. I regard this as a very precious re- 
sponsibility — and so will Mr. Benson. We'll start 
for Burlington Street in ten minutes. The matter 
is settled. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. S7 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Then, I'll say no more, sir. I shouldn't have 
spoken to a gentleman in this way, only — only 

Roderick Heron. 

Only what, my dear lady ? Tell me, you know, 
tell me. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Only John and I have been married, two-and- 
twenty years — and I daresay I'm vexing to him 
now and again — hut we've faced our troubles to- 
gether — having laid three children to rest — and so 
— so [laying her hand on Yeale' s shoulder and speak- 
ing huskily [please don't let any harm come to my 
old man. 

Yeale. 

Why, mother ! 

Mrs. Yeale. 

[Brushing the tears from her eyes.'] All right, 
father, all right. [She goes out quickly. 

Yeale. 

Bless my soul ! Something's upset Mrs. Yeale, 
sir. [Dennis enters with a bunch of violets in his 

hand,] 

Roderick Heron. 
Dennis ! 

Dennis. 

The old gentleman can't ride this morning, Yeale ; 
he has gout in his knee. 



88 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Veale. 

[ Going to his des7c.~\ Oh. He must pay for his 
lesson if he's got it in his stomach. 

Roderick Heron. 
\_ Talking apart with Dennis.] Well, dear Dennis ? 

Dennis. 

Well, father ? 

Roderick Heron. 

So you still herd with these common people, eh? 

Dennis. 

And you still live on my cousin Camilla, eh ? 

Roderick Heron. 

The — ah — pecuniary relations between Camilla 
and myself remain uninterrupted. 

Dennis. 

\_In disgust.'] Hah ! 

Roderick Heron. 

My dear Dennis! My child! You take a dis- 
torted view of our indebtedness to Camilla — you do 
really. 

Dennis. 
Oh, I'm ashamed ; that's all. 

Roderick Heron. 
Now that is a feeling I cannot understand. Why 
ashamed ? Camilla is wealthy — no credit to her ; she 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 89 

can't help it. We're poor — no discredit to us : we 
can't help it. Camilla has a large house, with empty 
rooms and beds in them — why on earth shouldn't we 
occupy those rooms and air those beds ? Camilla's 
cook prepares a dinner for four persons — a dinner for 
four is a dinner for six. Really, you know, an extra 
oyster in the oyster-sauce, or an additional pinch of 
curry in the Mullagatawny, represents — looked at 
in the right way — the extent of our obligations to 
Camilla. [Dennis turns away angrily. Veale 
goes out.'] Ah, our lower-class friend is considerate 
enough to leave us for a moment. Our lower-class 
friend is very h'less. 

Dexxis. 

So's the word " honesty " ; we can speak of him as 
we find him. 

Roderick Heron. 
Good ! capital ! [looking the fire vigorously.'] 
What filthy fires you keep here ! Where do you 
sleep now, Dennis — in a cornbin? 

Dexxis. 

I've a little room close at hand. It's a poor place 
— I can't ask you to come and see me. 

Roderick Heron. 
[ 'Wiping the dust from his hands on the table cover. 
I couldn't do it, dear Dennis. It would pain me, 
you know. 

Dexxis. 
Where are you f 

Roderick Herox. 
I'm at Croome's Hotel in Jermyn Street. I'm 



90 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

fairly comfortaole. I can ask you to call on me. 
So do, do, dear Dennis, abandon this crazy desire to 
earn your own living. It's not even original ; so 
many men have it. And great heavens, you'll com- 
promise me — you really will ! If people learn that 
my son is a cad of a riding-master, they'll think I — 
I've no means, you know. 

Dennis. 
Look here — I don't think you and I quite under- 
stand one another. 

Roderick Heron. 
Let us do so ! 

Dennis. 
These common people, as you call 'em, are hard- 
working people, sincere people, good people. 

Roderick Heron. 
Confound 'em ! 

Dennis. 
No — God bless 'em ! Hark, father — one more 
word about this and then have done with it. When 
I left Lydgate I did think of how I might earn my 
bread-and-meat in what you'd call a gentlemanlike 
fashion. T walked London till I was lame ; I button- 
holed a few friends 

Roderick Heron. 
No, no, dear Dennis — you didn't do that ! 

Dennis. 

Oh, don't be afraid ; I only told 'em I wanted to 

occupy my leisure. They grinned, and promised, 

and crossed the road when they met me next day. 

I tried strangers — they w r ere candid at any rate. 



LAD F BOUNTIFUL. 91 

And in less than three weeks I realised that I was 
the worthless crock the world weeds out of its stables. 
And it was then — when I learnt to hate the thought 
of myself and yet couldn't think of anything but 
myself ; when my boots had begun to play a sort of 
rogues' march on the pavement — it was then that I 
remembered John Yeale. And so, like it as little as 
you may, I've come into a new world — the world of 
saddle and stirrups — and the people you sneer at 
and patronise are its inhabitants and my friends. 

Roderick Heron. 
Good gracious, you're not going to sit round the 
family pot with those genial gipsies for ever and 
ever ! 

Dennis. 
Why not ? I'm no better than they ! I'm fit for 
nothing but to stick fast on a horse, and here — here 
they don't look down on me and despise me. So 
God bless John Yeale, I say again — God bless him 
and his ! 

[Yeale returns and resumes his seat at the 
desk. 

Roderick Heron. 
[Nudging Dennis with the end of Ms walking -cane. ~\ 
Ahem ! Dear Dennis, I thing perhaps I ought to 
mention it — Camilla is in town. 

Dennis. 
Camilla ! 

Roderick Heron. 
[Glancing at Y^kly,.'] S-s-s-h ! Yes, they're all 
staying for a few weeks with Sir Richard Philliter 
in Wilton Street. 



92 LAB Y BO UNTIFUL. 

Dexxis. 
Remember, I have your promise. 

Roderick Heron. 
Certainly; /don't know where the devil you are. 

Dexxis. 
Do they — ever — ask about me ? 

Roderick Herox. 

Oh, yes. They believe I'm searching for you. I 
get a great deal of very pleasant sympathy, you 
know. You're sure you wouldn't like to meet Camilla 
— accidentally, eh ? 

Dexxis. 

Meet her ! No, father, I — I wouldn't have Camilla 
set foot in my new world. 

Roderick IIerox. 
But you may encounter one another by chance — 
in the street, perhaps, while you're giving the lead 
to a couple of fat girls on bony horses ! 

Dexxis. 
Then T must present her to her cousin, Mr. Denni- 
son — the cad of a riding-master. [Margaret enters.'] 
But you won't do anything to bring that chance 
about ? Your word of honour ! 

Roderick Heron". 
My dear Dennis, my word of honour. 

Dexxis. 

Thanks. {Joining Margaret.] Oh, Meg, I've 
been trading with your poor little lame flower-mer- 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 93 

chant at the cab-stand. [ Giving her the violets.] 
He's not making his fortune. 

Margaret. 
Oh, Mr. Dennison! 

Roderick Heron. 
[To himself, watching Margaret and Dennis.] 
Really, you know, that's a dangerous companion- 
ship. Now I do hope that nothing will prevent the 
accidental meeting between dear Dennis and his 
relatives which I have so carefully planned. [Mrs. 
Veale enters."] Are you ready for Burlington Street, 
Veale ? 

Veale. 

Yes, sir. Dress me, mother. 

[John takes down his hat, muffler, and over- 
coat from the hat-peg and Mns. Veale 
assists him. Dennis and Margaret 
stroll away. 

Roderick Heron. 
[ To himself.] I think I'll make things quite safe 
here. 

Veale. 
Thank ye, 'Etty. 

Roderick Heron. 

My good friends, I have reason to anticipate that 
some esteemed relations of mine will shortly inspect 
your admirable establishment. 

Veale. 

'Etty ! 



94 LAD Y B UNTIFVL. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 

Lor', Mr Heron, have they found out about the 
young gentleman? 

Roderick Herox. 

Oh, no, no ; it's the purest coincidence, you know. 
My niece, Miss Beatrix Brent, who is in town, is to 
be permitted to take moderate exercise on horse- 
back ; and she is to receive instruction at some 
valuable institution of this kind. So I contrived 
that her brother's servant should become acquainted 
with the Hyde Park Riding Academy. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
You call this a coincidence, Mr. Heron 1 

Roderick Heron. 

To all outward appearances, quite, you know. 

Ykale. 
Well, sir, you'll excuse me 

Roderick Heron. 

[Standing between Veale '///'/Mrs. Veale taking 
their hands. 1 ] Hah, hah! you're going to scold me 
in your blunt, honest way for not respecting dear 
Dennis's foolish secret. But, my good souls, we are 
parents, and so you must help me to bring about 
a meeting between my naughty boy and a certain 
young lady whom he has treated — no, no, I will not 
tell you how he has treated a certain young lady. 

Ye ALE. 

What, Mr. Dennis ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 95 

Mrs. Veale. 
Why, I'd as soon have thought ill of my John 
there ! 

Roderick Heron. 
I believe you, dear Mrs. Veale— otherwise you 
would scarcely permit this terribly dangerous com- 
panionship to exist between your charming daughter 
and a — no, I won't say a wicked young fellow; I'll 
say a weak, impressionable young fellow. 

Veale. 



Mr. 'Eron 1 
Father! 



Mrs. Veale, 



Roderick Heron. 
There, there, there ! I've sufficiently distressed a 
watchful mother. I feel quite a brute— I do really. 
Come along, Veale. 

Veale. 
I To Mrs. Veale.] 'Etty, my dear I 

Mrs. Veale. 
[Solemnly giving Veale his hat.'] John — there's 
your hat. You leave this to me, 

Roderick Heron. 
[ To Mrs. Veale.] Good-bye. Now don't be too 
hard on my boy. I have spoilt him — it's my fault 
[taking Veale by the ami] I blame myself, you 
know — I blame myself for many things. 

[Veale and Roderick go out. As they do 
so Margaret enters and stands before a 



96 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

mirror, fixing Dennis's violets in her habit 
and humming a song to herself quietly 
and happily. Mrs. Veale, taking her 
spectacle-case from her pocket, puts on her 
glasses with deliberation and watches 
Margaret. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
What have you got there, Meg ? 

Margaret. 
Some violets. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Did your pa give 'em you ? 

Margaret. 
No, ma. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Who did give 'em you ? 

Margaret. 
Mr. Dennison. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Margaret. 

Margaret. 
[Brushing her hat.] Well? 

Mrs. Veale. 
Your pa and I are thinking of making a bit of a 
change here, in the school. 

Margaret. 
Oh! [Surveying herself in the mirror as she puts 
on her hat.'] What sort of a change ? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 97 

Mrs. Yeale. 
We're on the look-out for another riding-master. 

Margaret. 
Another riding-master ? To help Mr. Dennison ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 
No — in place of Mr. Dennison. 

Margaret. 
[Turning sharply .] "Why? 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Well, dear, there seems to be something serious 
amiss between our young gentleman and his rela- 
tions. 

Margaret. 
What's that — to do — with us ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 

That's just it. It ain't our place to take one side 
or another ; but by employing this young fellow in a 
capacity he wasn't brought up to, and making his 
dear father vexed and uncomfortable, we are taking 
one side, Meg, and p'rhaps we're doing wrong. 

Margaret. 
We may be doing a bigger wrong by sending him 
away. [Nervously trying to button her glove.~\ 

Mrs. Yeale. 
No, Meg, no ; because, take my word for it, this 
sort of thing never answers. Shall I button your 
glove, dear? 

Margaret. 
Thanks. [Mrs. Yeale buttons Margaret's glove 
7 



98 LADY BO UNTIFUL. 

with the aid of a hairpin,'] What do you mean by 
" this sort of thing " ? 

MRS. YE ALE. 

The mixing of gentry like him with people like us. 

Margaret. 
People like us. I suppose we are common. 

Mrs. Veale. 

Common, Meg ! No, no, my dear, we're not common. 
I hope — we're ordinary. 

Margaret. 

[ To herself. .] Ordinary. 

Mrs. Veale. 

There's a good many fish between salmon and her- 
rings, Meg. I don't think we're quite herrings; I 
should say we swim somewhere in the neighbourhood 
of the mackerel. [Fin ish ing w ith th < glove.~\ There ! 
Give me a kiss. 

[Margaret goes to kiss Mrs. Veale; then 
she breaks down and puts her arms round 
her neck. 

Margaret. 
Oh, mother! 

Mrs. Veale. 

Why, Margaret ! [Dropping her spectacles un- 
noticed^ 

Margaret. 

[Piteoush/.~\ Mother, isn't it hard that we're 
not fit to associate with people who are gentle — and 



LADY BOUNTIFUL, 99 

refined — and kind — and considerate, like — like this 
Mr. Dennison ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Ah ! [Looking into MARGARET'sjface.] Yon mustn't 
let yonr head run on Mr Dennison, Meg ; you mustn't 
do that. 

Margaret. 

[Drawing herself away.'] I know what you mean, 
mother ; but, if you imagine such a thing, it's not 
true — it's not true. I only think of him as the one 
real gentleman we have ever known who has made 
himself our friend and our equal, and who treats 
one — just as if — one were — a lady. Oh, it's bet- 
ter to be born a cripple than to be born com- 
mon ! 

[She throws herself into a chair and rocks her- 
self to and fro. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
[Standing by her and weeping^ How can you be 
so wicked, Meg — going on like this ? Father paid 
Miss Twibble a hundred-and- twenty a year for your 
accomplishments — quite an aristocratic boarding- 
school. 

Margaret. 
Yes! 

Mrs. Yeale. 

I wonder you're not afraid of being struck like it — 
an ungrateful child ! 

Margaret. 
I am ungrateful. Why did father waste his 
money to make an imitation lady of me ? And what 



100 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

did Tribble try to teach me? To sing, and play, 
and mince, and simper like those superior girls 
who wouldn't give me a nod now if they met me 
in the street! Hah! I only learnt the difference 
bin ween the real and the sham ; T only learnt 
that they were born with quiet voices and easy 
ways, and that, mimic as I might, I could never be 
anything but a common young woman! 

Mrs. Veale. 
It would break your father's heart if he heard you 
running down your education ! 

Margaret. 
You know it wouldn't, mother — but it's enough to 
break the hearts of girls like me to have such an 
education! It makes us think, and build castles, 
and hope; and it tortures us — that's all such educa- 
tion does for us — it tortures us. 

[Dennis < nters.~\ 

1 )i:\\is. 

[ To Margaret.] What'U you ride in the school 
this morning, Meg? 

Maroaret. 
I— 111 ride « Pearl." 

Dennis. 
Halloa, are you put out about anything? 

Margaret. 
I! No. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
May I have a few words with you, Mr. Dennison, 
before you go out ? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 101 

Dennis. 

Certainly — now. I'll just tell Wimple to saddle 
the mare. 

Margaret. 

No — I'll saddle her myself ; perhaps it'll be for the 
last time. 

Dennis. 

For the last time, Meg ? 

Margaret. 

Yes, I'm thinking of not going into the school 
after to-day. I — I'm tired of it — I'm tired of it. 

[ She goes out. 

Dennis. 

[ To himself, looking after her.~\ What's the mat- 
ter ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Mr. Dennison. [lie goes to her.~\ Mr. Dennison, 
a woman — at any rate a woman who isn't a young 
woman — may speak out to a young man without 
offence, I hope ; especially if she's honest and 
straightforward and means well to all parties. 

Dennis. 

Certainly, Mrs. Veale. Do I happen to be the 
young man ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Yes, sir, you do so happen. Mr. Heron — excuse 
me for going back to the old name — are you sure 
you're contented with the life you're living ? 



102 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dexxis. 

Contented ? Well — I contrive sometimes to forget 
the dunce, the idler, the fool, who bore the name 
you've just called me by ; that contents me. And 
I'm earning my bread, honestly. Yes — I'm con- 
tented. 

Mi:s. Veale. 

Then, sir, I'm truly sorry to hear it — that I am ! 

Dennis. 
Sorry, Mrs. Veale ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Because my husband and me are of one mind and 
that mind's made up. We've got to part company, 
sir — you and us. 

Dennis. 

Part company ! You don't mean you want — to 
be rid of me ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

I'd rather you didn't put it quite like that, sir — 
but it's what I do mean. 

Dexxis. 

What's the reason ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
[Rising."] Well, sir, that's just what I can't ex- 
actly tell you, but you must be content, Mr. Dennis, 
to know that it's better for us that you should leave 
us — better for us and better for you. 

Dexxis. 

Better ? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 103 

Mes. Ye ale. 

Ever-so-much — ever-so-much better. And now, 
sir, I'm dreadfully busy this morning ; I — I prom- 
ised Veale I'd check his figures, that I did. 

[She bustles up to the desk rather uneasily 
and brings some heavy boohs down 
to the table. 

Dennis. 
But — but you've been so kind to me, you and your 
husband, and Margaret 

Mrs. Veale. 
Ahem ! [ Taking her spectacle-case from her pocket 
and ■finding it empty. ~\ Drat the thing ! where are 
my spectacles ? 

Dennis. 
And now you turn me away like a lazy stable-hand. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

Look here, Mr. Dennis Heron, I'll tell you this ! 
The reason's one that any honest, right-minded man 
is bound to respect. Come, sir ! won't you trust an 
old — a middle-aged woman, and take her word ? 

Dennis. 
Oh, of course, I — I'll go. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

\JLaying a hand on his shoidder.~\ Thank you, my 
dear. 

\_She turns from him and sits with the books 
before her. 



104 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 

[ To himself.] What is it ? What is it ? 
[Wimple eaters with a note .] 

Wimple. 
[ Giving Dennis ?A<? note."] For the Missus. 

[7/t ; r/oes out. 
Den ms. 

[Sanding the noteto Mrs. Veale.] A note for you. 

Mks. Veale. 
Thanks. [ Looking <ih<>nt her."] Have you seen 
my glasses, Mr. Dennison ? I'm a perfect bat with- 
out 'em. It's an order for the office, I fancy. [Re- 
turning the note to Dennis.] Kindly tell me what 
it's about, sir — will you ? 

[*S7*e resumes tht search for her spectacles. 
Dennis reads the note, and his expression 

alters to one of blank dismay.] 

Dennis. 

[To himself."] Meg! 

[lie turns to Mi:s. Veale, to spool; to her, 
when then is a knock at the door. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Yes? 

Amelia enters. Dennis stares at the letter in a dazed 
manner. 

Amelia. 
Please, m'm. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 105 

Mrs. Veale. 
^Yhat are you doing, 'Melia ; leaving your work ? 

Amelia. 

The clerk was wishful that I should look for you, 
m'm. 

Mrs. Veale. 
You've been gossiping with the clerk ! 

Amelia. 

Oh, no, m'm. Me and 'im was meally passin' the 
time of day when a gentleman and some ladies come 
into the office and asked for to be showed over the 
school. 

Mrs. Veale. 
A gentleman and some ladies ? 

Amelia. 

Yes, m'm ; and the clerk was wishful to know if 
I would be good enough as to favour him by bein' so 
obligin' as to kindly assy tain where you was. It is 
not my 'abit nor am I wishful to be drawn off my 
'ousework. 

Mrs. Veale. 

[Suddenh/ with a look at Dennis and taking Amelia 
apart.~\ 'Melia ! 

Amelia. 

\In a whisper.] Yes, m'm ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
What are they like ? Describe 'em ! 



1U6 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Amelia. 
Two young ladies of the age of my young sister 
and my married sister; and a young gentleman of 
the age of my married sister's 'usband ; and a older 
lady something like Queen Elizabeth, speaking by 
'earsay. 

Mrs. Yeai.e. 

[ To herself. 1 Miss Brent of Fauncourt ! [Looking 
at Dennis.] Shall I — shall I ask 'em up here ? 

Amelia. 
What say, m'm ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
S-s-sh ! [ To Dennis.] I'll be back in two minutes, 
Mr. Dennison. 'Melia ! 

[She goes out, followed by Amelia. 

Dennis. 
Meg! Meg! [He reads the note to himself."] 
"Mother. I told you a lie. I do care for him — I 
do care for him with all my heart. I shall be hap- 
pier if you send him away." I — I understand. 
Meg! The child of these people — these people 
wh< >' ve been good to me — and trusted me. Poor little 
Meg ! What a shame — what a shame ! 

[Wimple appears in the gallery, carrying a 
bridle and a leather. 

Wimple. 
[Looking into the room."] Gettin' on for class time, 
Mister Dennison. 

Dennis. 

[Abstractedly."] Thank you. [Folding the note 
carefully and placing it in his i^ocket.] It's my fault ; 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 107 

it must be all my fault. Poor little Meg — what a 
shame ! [He goes out in deep thought. 

Wimple. 

[Looking after Dennis.] Reclinin' in a armchair 
a'reaclm' his letters like a dook. Well, that chap 
beats me ! The missus ! 

[lie rubs the bridle energetically as Mrs. 
Ye ale enters, looking round, nervously. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
[ To Wimple.] Where's Mr. Dennison ? 

Wimple. 
[Glancing over the balustrade.] He's just walked 
into the stables — a'talkin' to Miss Marg'rit. 
Miss Brent enters, followed by Beatrix. Wimple 
strolls away. 

Miss Brent. 
[To Mrs. Ye ale.] Thank you. 

Beatrix. 
[To Camilla as she enters, pale and sad-looki?ig.] 
Here's a fire, Cam. 

Camilla. 
[ With a shiver.] Oh ! 

[She goes languidly to the fire. 

Miss Brent. 
' [To Mrs. Ye ale.] We are to wait here? 
[LuciAX enters.] 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Well, I know my husband would feel honoured to 
show you over the school and the stables himself. 



108 LADY BO UN TIFUL. 

Ll< IAN. 

As a matter of fact, our time is rather precious. 
[To Miss Brext.] I have to go to my hosiers, you 
know, aunt. 

Camilla. 
Pray allow me to get warm, Lucian. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Mr. Yeale won't be long, I'm sure. 

Miss Brent. 

Mr. Yeale of Bayerstoke ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Yes, miss. 

Miss Brent. 
Dear me ! I think you came with your husband to 
Fauncourt? 

Mes. Veale. 
I did. 

Miss Brent. 
How do you do ? Camilla, how strange ! 

Lucian. 
Oh, of course ; my uncle, Mr. Roderick Heron, 
took " si re] >hon " and " Chloe," the two hunters, from 
your stable, didn't he ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

Y-yes, sir. I hope they're doing well this sea- 
son. 

Camilla. 

^Ye do not hunt at Fauncourt this season. Mr. 
Dennis Heron has brought his stay at Fauncourt to 
a close. His horse " Strephon" now belongs to me. 
I prize him — highly. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 109 

LlTCIAN. 

He's as fat as a pig ; does no work and is petted 
like a spaniel. 

Camilla. 
[ Angrily."] Lucian ! 

Lucia x. 
What's the matter, Cam ? [To himself, looking at 
Camilla.] Temper! [Strolling into the gallery and 
looking over the balustrade. Halloa — the riding- 
school ! 

Be atrix. 
Oh! [Looking through the opening.] How delight- 
ful ! [ To Mrs. Veale.] It is I who am to ride. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
Indeed, miss. 

Beatrix. 
When you were in business at Baverstoke I daresay 
you heard how delicate I was. 

Mrs. Veale. 
No, miss, I hadn't that pleasure. 

Beatrix. 
Oh, you must have heard and forgotten. You will 
feel extremely sorry when I tell you that I am still 
most fragile. 

Lucian. 

[Mockingly -.] Ho, ho ! 

Beatrix. 
[ To Miss Brext.] Aunt, is Lucian to be allowed 
to behave quite in that way ? 



110 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Miss Brent. 

Lucian ! 

LlTTAX. 

All right. Only I've been obliged to come clown 
from Cambridge because my head's given way; 
that's what I call being delicate. 

Beatrix. 
[In the gallery leaning over the balustrade.'] Shall 
I learn here ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Y-yes, miss. 

Beatrix. 
There are some people riding now. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
They are the young ladies from Mrs. Cheeseman's 
School, miss. [Lucian joins Beatrix and looks down 
upon the riding-school.] They have an hour every 
Monday at eleven. 

Beatkix. 
It's nearly eleven. May we watch the lesson? 
Who will teach ? 

Mrs. Yeale. 
My daughter and — and — the riding-master. 

Beatrix. 
Oh! [Calling.] Aunty! 

[She, Lucian and Mrs. Yeale watch all that 
is going on below tvith interest. 

Miss Brent. 
[Tenderly to Camilla who is sitting with her head 
thrown back hi thought.] You look very lonely there. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. Ill 

Camilla. 
Dreaming, aunt. 

Miss Brent. 

Always in the clouds, dear. 

Camilla. 
Aunty, have you ever visited a strange spot and 
found it familiar to you ? I seem to know this queer 
place quite well. Do you think I lived here in my 
former existence, when I was a cat or something ? 

Miss Brent. 
It is the aspect of the stable in everything that 

recalls 

Camilla. 
That recalls what Fauncourt used to be. Yes — 
and Fauncourt is dull enough now for our pains. 
We drove the life out of it, you and I, when we sent 
— him away. How cruel we were. 

Miss Brent. 

Will you ever forgive me for my share hi that, 
Camilla ? 

Camilla. 

I love you, Aunt Anne, dearly; [drawing Miss 
Brent to her fondly] but, no — I will never forgive 
you, never, never, never. 

Miss Brent. 

[Smiling sadly'] Ah! 

Mrs. Veale. 
[To Beatrix.] If you stand over there, miss, at 
the end of the gallery, you'll get a better view of the 
riders. I — I must go downstairs to the office. 



112 LAI) Y BO UNTIFUL. 

Beatrix. 
Point out your daughter to me, first. 

Mrs. Veale. 
She's not there yet, miss. [The sounds of jingling 
bits and horses* hoofs arc heard. [Yes— here she 
comes, with ! Excuse me! [/She goes away. 

Beatrix. 
[Looking into the room.~] Camilla ! Aunt! Come 
and watch ! Oh, do ! Lucian ! 

[Beatrix runs out followed by Lucian. 

Mtss Brent 
Camilla ? 

Camilla. 
Let me wait here, please. [Miss Brent goes on to 
the gallery, glances over the balustrade, and follows 
the others. [Why do I stir out of doors when strange 
places and strange sounds tease me so! The air of 
the stables — Dennis! The tread of the horses — 
Dennis ! [Dreamily.'} Day, dusk, sunlight, firelight, 
shadow — all recalling — our Dennis. [Closing her 
eyes.} Not our Dennis — nobody eared for him as I 

cared for him. My Dennis — my Dennis 

[The indistinct sound of Dennis's voice is 
heard directing thelesson. Camilla's eyes 
open; then she raises her head slowly, 
staring before her, withparted lips. His 
voice is heard again. With a faint cry 
Camilla rises. 

Lucian. 
[In the distance."] Dennis! Dennis! [Lucian 
appears in the gallery.} I say, Cam ! Look here ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 113 

Beatrix. 
[Running in.'] Camilla, here's Dennis ! 

[Lucian and Beatrix run out again. 

Miss Brent. 
[ Coming to Camilla.] Camilla ! 

Camilla. 
I know. 

[She walks away, and stands looking down into 
the fire. 

Miss Brent. 
[Meeting Dennis icho enters with Beatrix and 
Lucian.] Dennis ! 

Dennis. 
[Taking her hand, .] Miss Brent. 

[Miss Brent, Lucian, and Beatrix glance 
towards Camilla ; Dennis's eyes follow 
theirs. 

Dennis. 
Camilla. 

[She turns without speaking, then she extends 
her hand. 

Camilla. 
\In a low voice.] Dennis. 

Dennis. 
I thank you. This is like you. I thank you. 

Camilla. 
Thank me? 

Dennis. 

For thinking me worth recovering. 



114 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
You are mistaken, Dennis. We are here by- 
chance. 

Dennis. 
Chance ! 

Camilla. 

Beatrix is to learn to ride 

Beatrix. 
Yes. 

Camilla. 

And we are looking for a riding-school 

I)i:.\xis. 
And a good riding-master ? 

Camilla. 
A — riding-master ! 

Dexxis. 

Yes. Let me introduce myself. My name is 
Dennison and I teach riding here for a living. 

Camilla. 
[Turning from him reproachfully !\ Oh! 

Beatrix. 
[ To Dennis affectionately^ Xever mind; we're so 
glad we've found, you. 

Miss Brent. 
Beatrix ! 

[Miss Brext and Litciax go on to the 
gallery and stand, with their backs 
towards the room looking down into the 
school.'] 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 115 

Beatrix. 
Dennis — make Cam bring you home. 

[She joins Miss Brent and Lucian and 
gradually they all three disappear.'] 

Camilla. 
Oh, Dennis ! And is this all you have done ? 

Dennis. 

All. 

Camilla. 
Horrible ! 

Dennis. 
You mean I've declined in the social scale ? 

Camilla. 
Hah! 

Dennis. 

Oh, yes, I admit I'm accustomed to polite society. 
I was once dependent upon a lady who fed me, 
clothed me, kept me, for longer than I care to reckon. 
But she knows that I've reached my proper level — I 
refer you to her for my character. 

Camilla. 

Ah, I am acquainted with the young woman you 

speak of. She is a person of few ideas, but one of 

them — a nice discernment of the difference between 

true pride and false — might commend itself to you. 

Dennis. 

False pride ? 

Camilla. 
Yes. And she has already furnished me with 
your character. In the mind of this young woman 



116 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

you are a melancholy example of that race of beings 
who, having wronged themselves, behave with all 
the dignity and resignation of a child with a torn 
pinafore: who abandon friends when friends cease 
to be blind to foibles and follies ; and who plant 
upon their man's estate a solitary, ungainly tree — 
Pride, unreasoning, undignified, and, she thinks, 
heartless Pride ! 

[Site turns from him. 
Dexxis. 

[Gently. .] Miss Brent. [She looks at him quickly 
then turns away again.! A woman can always 
make a man appear a fool, and to defend himself 
from her — especially when she's really good and 
generous — is like using a stick. So I've nothing to 
answer, only — you are a little hard to please, Lady 
Bountiful. 

Camilla. 

You think I am inconsistent. Of course, I did 
urge you to work. 

Yes. 

Camilla. 

But this uncomfortable enthusiasm is — is appal- 
ling ! I couldn't suggest your living in such dread- 
ful surroundings, and with such people. 

Dkxxis. 
Oh, you mustn't speak against them, please ! 

[He stands leaning "pan, the chair icith a set 

expression on Ids face. 

Camilla. 
I beg your pardon ; I'm sure they're very nice 



Dennis. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 117 

in their way, but — Dennis — listen to my proposal. 
We always quarrel — let us quarrel under more 
genial circumstances. Fauncourt is still open house 
and remains so for some months 

Dennis. 

Oh, no ! 

Camilla. 
Wait — you are so hasty! We — I owe you some 
reparation. Give me an opportunity of making it. 

Dennis. 

Reparation ! 

Camilla. 

For never truly understanding you — for under- 
rating you. Ah, it is only my tongue that is shrew- 
ish, and now even that says — I am sorry. 

Dennis. 

Camilla ! 

Camilla. 
Dennis, I fear I have never been quite candid 
with you, and — since you left us — the thought has — • 
distressed me. 

Dennis. 
What do you mean ? 

Camilla. 
I don't think I told you truthfully why I kept 
you ignorant of your poverty — and I am a little 
ashamed. 

Dennis. 
But you gave me two reasons 



118 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
Yes — but they were only half-truths, and two half- 
truths don't make a whole one. And, Dennis, I 
have found out lately that, deep down below all 
other reasons. T delayed telling you the secret 
of your position because I thought the know- 
ledge of it might send you far out into the world 
— and Fauncourt was dull — and we couldn't spare 
you. 

[ Turning firom him. she covers her eyes with 
Iter hand for a moment. 

Dennis. 
[Watching her with a look of dismay.'] Oh! 

Camilla. 

And so, for everybody's sake, come back to the old 
house ; and there, by our cosy fireside, Ave will all 
sit, and plot, and plan out some appropriate career 
for the truant who has taught us how large, and 
cold, and cheerless home is without him ! Will you, 
Dennis ? 

Dennis. 

[In a low voice.] T thank you, with all my heart; 
but — even if I would come home — it is too late. 

Camilla. 
[In a whisper. ] Too late ? 

Dennis. 

Yes — it is too late. 

Margaret. 
[Calling outside.] Dennis ! Dennis ! 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 119 

[Camilla and Dennis look straight at each 
other for a moment, then she quickly chaws 
away in agitation. 
Roderick Heron enters, followed by Veale and Mrs. 
Veale, while Dennis goes out. 

Roderick Heron. 

My clear niece, you have discovered our little 
secret in the strangest way! Dennis wouldn't 
let me tell you, he really wouldn't. It's his fault ; 
I hate concealment, you know. Eh ? 

Camilla. 
[Faintly.'] Find — Aunt Anne ! 
Dennis returns with Margaret ; Miss Brent, who 
follows, exchanges a word with Roderick and 
goes straight to Camilla. Lucian and Beatrix 
enter after Miss Brent. 

Dennis. 
[Falteringly.] Camilla — this is Margaret, the 
daughter of my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Veale. 
I want to tell you all that Margaret has promised to 
be — my wife. 

[There is a moment of silent surprise. 

Camilla. 
[Looking at Margaret and advancing to her 
steadily.] I am Camilla Brent, Mr. Dennis Heron's 

cousin. [ Taking Margaret's hand.] Let me 

She falters, turns to Miss Brent, and lean- 
ing upon her arm walks to the door, 
followed by Lucian and Beatrix. 

END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



120 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 



THE THIRD ACT. 

MARGARET PREPARES FOR HER VOYAGE. 

The scene is a humble room in the basement of a house 
in a poor street in Westminster. The windows 
look out into the area, whence a flight of steps 
leads up to the pavement, which together with the 
area railings are plainly seen from the room. 
An open door leads into the scullery, through 
which the area is reached. The room is poorly 
furnished, tht fire is lighted, a baby sleeps in its 
cradle on the floor. Eighteen months have passed 
since the events ofth< previous act. 

It is < i bright summer morning; a barrel-organ is 
playing in the si ret. Mrs. Veale, looking grey 
and careworn, is at work in the scullery. She 
peeps into the room and listens. 

jlns. Veale. 
Did I hear our little 'un? \_8he crosses quietly to 
the cradle and kneels beside it, looking into it and 
arranging the coverlet^ Ha! Do you know why 
the music's playing this fine morning, my precious? 
It's because mother's coming down to-day. That's 
what the music tells us! Mother's coming down- 
stairs this blessed morning ! Grandpa! [She sees 
Johx A' kali-: slowly descending the area steps, and 
goes to meet him as he enters through the scullery^ 
carrying a brown paper parcel. lie is much altered 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 121 

— his hair is white, his step feeble, and his manner 
that of a broken-down ma?i^\ Father clear, I thought 
you'd got lost. 

Ye ALE. 

Did you, 'Etty? 

Mrs. Yeale. 

[ Taking his hat, stick, and comforter from him.~\ 
I shan't send you out on any more errands if you 
keep me on pins and needles. 

Yeale. 
There was so many crossin's, mother ; I'm not 
what I was in traffic. [ Giving her the parcel.] The 
young man at the draper's says this is all the rage 
just now — two-and-eleven-pence-ha'penny. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
[Opening the parcel and finding a common icoollen 
shawl which she shakes out and puts round her shoid- 
ders.~\ Capital ! 

Yeale. 
Just suits you, 'Etty. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
[ Taking off the shaicl.~] As if it was for me ! It's 
for Meg. 

Yeale. 
Meg — oh, aye. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Dennis is going to carry Meg downstairs when he 
comes home to dinner. 

Yeale. 
Lor' bless my soul ! Is he ? Ha ! ha ! It'll seem 
like old times — our Meg running about again. 



122 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Veals. 
Don't, father ! It'll be a long while before we see 
Meg looking much like our Meg. Why, johli dear, 
you forget everything nowadays. Megs been eight 
weeks upstairs. 

A' KALE. 

Oh, aye — time flies. It's a year since my bank- 
ruptcy ; I reck'lect that — I reck'lect that. 

Mrs. Yea i.e. 
[Looking t<>»-<ir<7s the <-ra<Il<.~] Yes, father, the 
little gal's' eight weeks old to-day at tea-time — but 
she hasn't been lying nearly so still and quiet as her 
mother has. Meg ! 

[She goes to the fireplace <m<l arranges the 
shawl over the back of the arm-chair 
which she turns towards the fire. 

Yeale. 
[Mumbling to himself J] Meg comin' down! It'll 
all seem like old times afore the bankruptcy. It'll 
all seem like old times — afore the baby was — afore 
the baby was — made a bankrupt — made a bankrupt 
— made a bankrupt. 

Amelia enters, carrying a tray with breakfast things 
upon it. She has become wizen and slatternly. 

Amelia. 

Please, m'm, ole Mr. 'Eron — he 'aven't touch his 
breakfast agin. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

What's wrong now? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 123 

Ye ALE. 

Mr. 'Eron — one of the affablest gentlemen we've 
ever known ! 

Amelia. 

I'm not wishful to repeat sech language, m'm, but 
Mr. 'Eron 'ave been calling his meal by low names. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
No, 'Melia. 

Amelia. 

He says 'is toast is a injury and 'is kawfee a in- 
sult. 

[Amelia retires to the scullery. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
John, I can't endure that heartless old man much 
longer ! He's wearing me out ! 

Yeale. 

You don't understand Mr. 'Eron, 'Etty, my dear. 
Mrs. Yeale. 

Don't understand ! Why the old man's no more 
than we are now, and ought to be much less ! We 
give him the cream of everything — the bedroom with 
the new wall-paper, the quilt I was married with ! 
'Melia valets him and keeps him repaired, and I 
scorch my eyes out cooking him luxuries ! And how 
does he treat us ? It's wicked ! 

Yeale. 
Ah, I dessay Mr. 'Eron feels his fall in the world 
worse than we do, 'Etty. It's a shockin' reverse for 
a born gentleman. [Taking a spoon from the tray.'] 
Look 'ere ! A metal spoon for a born gentleman. 
There's a reverse ! 



1 24 LAD Y B UN TIFUL. 

Mrs. Veale. 

A gentleman ! Who led ns into all the mischief 
that finished up in the Bankruptcy Court with an 
old judge — whose face I could a' slapped — asking 
you impudent questions ? 

Yi: ALE. 

[Mournfully.'] I know, 'Etty, I know. 

3Ii:s. Veale. 
And still you're proud of being patronised, and 
slapped on the back, by a "gentleman"! You're 
not yourself, father, or I'd be ashamed of you. 

Veale. 

But Mr. 'Eron has explained everything in his own 
affable way — the friendliest gentleman we've ever 
known. 

Mrs. Veale. 

He'd explain the pattern of my gown. 

A' KALE. 

lie's been forsook by his proud relations, and put 
in the hands of their lawyers, and now [looking at 
tin spoon] his own son don't give him a bit o' silver 
to stir his tea with ! 

[The music of the street-or(/<in is lt<<<r<l again. 

aIus. Veale. 
ITis own son! Ah, poor Dennis ! lie's got enough 
to bear, with all ns sparrows chirruping for bread- 
crumbs ! Come, I won't grumble at my share o' the 
burden! [Seizing the poker vigorously <ni<J mending 
the fire. 1 ] I'll think about the old vagabond's dinner, 
that I will ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 125 

Amelia. 
[Entering the room from the scullery.'] I'm ready 
for baby, m'm. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
[Taking the baby from the cradle and placing it 
in Amelia's arms.] Be careful, 'Melia ! 

Amelia. 
[Tenderly.] Lor', m'm, I'm used to it. There's 
two at 'ome I've reared. 

Roderick Heron enters. There is a faded and 
rather depressed air about him, but his manner 
towards the Ye ale's is magnificent and conde- 
scending. He stalks across to the fireplace. 

Roderick Heron. 
Yeale, my dear fellow — the paper. 

[Amelia goes out icith the baby, 

Yeale. 
It's Mr. 'Eron ! Good-mornin', sir — a fine and 
pleasant mornin' to you, Mr. 'Eron. [Taking the 
newspaper from the top of the bureau and cutting it. ~] 

[Roderick removes the woollen shawl from 
the back of the chair and throws it aioay, 
then seats himself facing the fire. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

[Picking up the shaicl indignantly and placing it 
on a chair. Ah ! 

Roderick Heron. 
Oh, my good woman, I've eaten no breakfast, you 
know. I'm quite faint — I really am. 



126 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Veale. 
[Repressing her anger. ~\ We must get you some- 
thing tempting for your dinner, sir. 

Roderick Heron. 
I'm glad you feel the necessity for a step of that 
kind I suggest a small bird of some sort — a pig- 
eon, for example. With a sauce — try a sauce, Mrs. 
Veale. 

Mrs. Veale. 
[ Twitching her hands.'} A sauce. 

Roderkk Heron. 

But, for heaven's sake, don't invent it! Buy a 
cookery book when you go out. I'll open my purse- 
Btrings and make you a present of one. Ask Dennis 
for the money. [Veale gives Roderick Heron the 
paper.] Thank you, Veale — you are exceedingly 
attentive. I hope you know that I consider you ex- 
ceedingly attentive. 

Veale. 

Much obliged to ye, Mr. 'Eron, I'm sure. 

Mrs. Veale. 

Have you heard that Meg comes down to-day, Mr. 
Heron ? 

Roderick Heron. 

[Reading the paper with //is had- to the fire conde* 
scendi n gkf.~] Does she ? Now I'm rejoiced to hear 
that — quite rejoiced, you know. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Ah, thank you, sir. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 127 

Roderick Heron. 

She will be able to assist in the household duties. 

Mrs. Veale. 
What! 

Roderick Heron. 
I have lost all confidence in Amelia since I detected 
her using my comb. You are well-intentioned, Mrs. 
Veale ; but Margaret can now make me her special 
study. 

Mrs. Veale. 

Mr. Heron, while my gal has been lying upstairs, 
watched, on and off, by me and Dennis, there's been 
one belief that's kep' me, in a sort o' way, cheerful, 
sir. 

Roderick Heron. 
Indeed, indeed ? 

Mrs. Veale. 

The belief that it couldn't be meant to snatch at 
the young and pretty under this roof and leave the 
old and selfish untouched. 

Roderick Heron. 

[Looking at Veale.] Ah, and a very cruel thing 
to say before your poor husband, Mrs. Veale — a very 
heartless thing! [Mbs. Veale, with a look of in- 
dignation, goes into the scullery carrying the tray.'] 
Veale, have you any money in your pocket ? 

Veale. 
[Fumbling in his pockets.] A little change of 
mother's, sir, 



128 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick IIebon. 
Buy me a bunch of primroses when you go out. 
Margaret will be gratified by some attention from 
me on her coming downstairs, you know. I try to 
think of everybody. 

Amelia, dressed for walking, enters, weighed down 
by the baby in its bonnet and robe. Mrs. 
Veale returns to the room. 

Amelia. 

[ To Mrs. Yeale.] Master's come in, m'm ; he's 
run upstairs to the young missus. 

Mrs. Veale. 

It's early for Dennis ; he's so excited about Meg. 

Roderick Hebon. 

I really hope he is not neglecting those disgusting 
stables of his. The business of a Jobmaster is pain- 
fully degrading, but when a young man has respon- 
sibilities 

Mj:s Veale. 

[Attiring Veale in his hat, gloves, and comforter.'] 
Here's your hat, father. Go into the park with 
'Melia and sit in the sun. [The music of the street- 
organ is resumed* Amelia goes out and ascends the 
area-steps, followed by Veale. Watching their 
departure from the area, and calling after themJ] 
Don't look about you, 'Melia ! John, hold on to 
'Melia's jacket at the crossings ! [A letter is handed 
to her through the railings.*] Good-morning, post- 
man. [Ii< turning to the room and throwing the letter 
on to the table.] Letter for you, Mr. Heron. She 
retires to the scullery. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 129 

Roderick Heron. 

Eh ? Oh ! [ Taking up the letter.'] Camilla's law- 
yers ! [ Opening the letter.'] No enclosure. Really, 
you know, this is infamous ! [Heading.] " Great 
George Street, Westminster. Sir. Yourself and 
Miss Camilla Brent. In answer to your further 
communication, we are again compelled to inform 
you that we can. do nothing hut act upon the posi- 
tive instructions of Miss Camilla Brent and her ad- 
visers given us previous to her leaving England a 
year ago." Now, how deceived we have all "been in 
this young woman ! " The large sum of money then 
paid you by Miss Camilla Brent, to enable you to 
discharge your obligations to Mr. John Yeale, was a 
final gift on the part of our client and we regret to 
find that it was misapplied." Really, you know, 
this is libellous ! " It is, of course, open to you to 

directly address Miss Camilla Brent " Ah! "but 

as that lady is moving about Europe we are our- 
selves unacquainted with her precise whereabouts." 
Oh ! " We note your assurance that you are now the 
sole support of your son and his numerous family 
connections. Maule & Craddock." 

Dennis enters guickly, carrying a large bouquet, a 
basket of fruit, and a parcel of books. Rod- 
erick Heron shuffles his letter into his pocket, as 
Mrs. Yeale also enters. 



Dennis. 



Good-morning, father ! 



Mrs. Yeale. 
Ah, Dennis, my dear ! 



130 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick Heron. 
You neglect your employment at a very critical 
hour of the clay, Dennis. 

Dennis. 

I'm of no use at the Mews this morning ! Meg is 
coming downstairs ! [Showing the Jioicers.] Look 
here, father ! 

Roderick Heron. 
For your wife, I presume ? 

Den ms. 
Yes. Aren't they beautiful ? [ To Mrs. Veale.] 
Put 'em in the gayest jug we have. [Mrs. Veale 
takes the flowers and retires to the scuuery. Selecting 
a hunch of grapes from thebasket and holding it up.] 
There's a picture ! 

Roderick Heron. 

I'm always grieved to sec extravagance, you know. 
Grapes at this season of the year — for your wife; 
it's a little painful to me. 

Dennis. 

Extravagance! Extravagance! Meg is coming 
clown to day ! [Handing the pared of books to Rod- 
erick.] Here, father — some new books. 

Roderick Heron. 
Ah, dear Dennis, that's thoughtful — now that's 
really thoughtful. 

Dennis. 
Spread 'em all out on the table. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 131 

Roderick Heron. 
[Tucking the parcel under his arm.] No, no, I 
won't unpack 'em here. 

Dennis. 
Yes, yes. Let her catch sight of the bright covers 
directly I carry her into the room. 

[Dennis goes up to the scullery -do or and 
gives the fruit to Mrs. Veale. 

Roderick Heron. 

[ To himself.'] Meg ! Pish ! [ Throwing the books 
on the table.] Really, you know ! 

[I)i disgust, he sits reading his paper. Dennis 
wheels down a big arm-chair and arranges 
it beside the table. 

Dennis. 

Just the thing ! Not too near the fire — out of the 
draught. 

Mrs. Veale. 

[Returning with the flowers in a jug.] Look at 
this fine yellow rose ! It's Megs pet flower. 

Dennis. 

Ha, ha ! of course it is. [ Turning the jug.] We'll 

turn it this way, mother, so that, when she sits here, 

the big yellow chap stares her in the face. There ! 

[He opens the parcel of books ; he and Mrs. 

Veale arrange them about the table.] 

Mrs. Veale. 
How splendid! [Examining the boohs.] Dennis. 

Dennis. 

Eh? 



182 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
There's no pictures in 'em ! 
Den ms. 
Don't you think — Meg will — care for 'em — with- 
out ? 

Mrs. A' kale. 

Why, Dennis, you know her taste in reading by 
this time. 

, Dennis. 

I — I quite forgot. 

Mrs. V bale. 
Kever mind ! Come and set out that fruit. 

[ They go together into the scullery. 
Roderick Heron. 
The soot is falling here ; T am half smothered, you 
know. Phew! [ Me rises, and crosses to the table.] 
Ugh! I had better rejoice with the rest of 'em. 
[Sinking into thi arm-chair comfortably,'] Now, I 
suppose, to a girl of her class these domestic events 
are as bank-holidays to a common young man. But 
confound her and her baby ! 

\IIe selects the yellow rose from the bouquet 
and fastens it in his coat. Mrs. Veale 
comes to the table with the fruit in a 
dish. Deknis picks up the hassock and 
places it on the floor by the arm-chair : 
Roderick puts his feet onit. Dennis 
and Mrs. Veale stare at Roderick 
blankly. 

Roderick Heron. 
[ Gaily, pointing to the rose in his coat.] You see ! 
You see! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 133 

Dennis. 
Why, father, you ! 

Roderick Heron. 
Dear Dermis, I decorate in honour of the occasion. 

[Dennis icalks away. 
Mrs. Ye ale. 
[Follows him sympathetically."] Don't be down, 
Dennis ! Cheer up ! He's a well-meaning gentle- 
man, your father. 

Roderick Heron. 
[Taking some grapes from the dish and munching 
them complacently.] Towards all these pretty family 
celebrations I am really sympathetic — quite sympa- 
thetic, you know. 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
Dennis, my dear, don't you think this is a capital 
opportunity to — let him know ? 

Dennis. 

[In a whisper.] To tell him ? 

Mrs. Ye ale. 
About the future — now. 

[Dennis, taking an auctioneer's catalogue 
from his pocket, advances to Roderick. 

Dennis. 

Father, there's some important news I want to 
break to you. [Giving him the catalogue.] Perhaps 
you'd better glance over that. 

Roderick Heron. 
Certainly, dear Dennis, certainly. 



134 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dexxis. 
I've kept it from you till the matter was quite 
settled; there's no good, that I can see, in arguing 
about what's got to be. 

Roderick Heron. 

Good gracious. [Headiriy the catalogue.'] Without 
any reserve! Saturday the 11th ! Messrs. ChepmeU 
have instructions to dispose of — Horses, carts, car- 
riages — general stock of a Livery Stable! Propri- 
etor leaving England! On view after Wednesday ! 
[To Dennis.] You really don't suggest that this 
refers to your, I may say our, business ? 

Dennis; 
Yes, father, T do. 

Roderick Heron. 

Proprietor leaving — no, dear Dermis, no ! 

Dennis. 

Proprietor leaving England. It might have said 
that he hopes to do it in a week's time, and that he's 

going to the shipping-agent this very day. 

Roderick Heron 

Proprietor leaving Eng ? Alone. 

Dennis. 
Alone! \^Layiny his hand oriMxa. Ye ale's shoulder 
— she looking up at him kindly. ~] Alone — no. Mr. 
and Mrs. Yeale go with me. Meg — my wife — and 
our little girl go with me. Please, heaven, health 
and good fortune go with us all ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 135 

Roderick Heron. 
[Taking up an important position before thefre.~\ 
Really, Dennis, I am almost ashamed that such a 
question should arise — nay, that it should be abso- 
lutely vital — but what arrrangements do you propose 
with reference to myself, you know ? 

Dennis. 

Well, we are willing you should share the rough 
and smooth with us. 

Roderick Heron. 

The rough ! 

Dennis. 
I'm content to work for you as I do now, father, 
and those about me will do their best to make you 
happy. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Yes, that we will ! 

Roderick Heron. 
[ Waving her away."] One moment, Mrs. Yeale — ^ 
please, please ! This is purely a private matter 
[Mrs. Yeale goes to the window. Sulkily to Den^ 
nis.] Where the devil are we going? 

Dennis. 
A good friend — Mr. Ericson — a rich American, 
who's had dealings with me and taken a liking to me, 
owns a large cattle-farm out in Nebraska. 

Roderick Heron. 
Great powers, cattle ! 



136 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 

And he has an idea that I'm the man to manage 
it. By Jove, I'm the man to try ! 

Roderick Heron. 
Nebraska ! I demand to know what has induced 
yon to commit yourself to — to — to this most inconve- 
nient scheme ! 

Dennis. 
I'll tell yon. The chance of some day finding my- 
self able to restore ease and comfort to the two old 
people we ruined by our coming amongst 'em. The 
prospect of taking my wife out of the drudgery and 
meanness of this soil of life, and seeing the colour 
come back to her face and the strength to her poor 
little body! And the hope of watching our child 
grow up to be a woman among sturdy, independent 
people who won't let her feel ashamed of a rough, 
grey-haired father ! If it all comes to pass, why — I 

—why Ah, if it only comes to pass ! 

\_IIc breaks down a little and sits leaning his 
/a ml upon his hand. 

Mrs. Veale. 
[Coming to him <md touching his shoulder, sooth- 
ingly.'] Dennis ! 

Roderick Heron. 
[To himself reflectively]. After all, there are gentle- 
men farmers! And it may move Camilla to a sense 
of duty. [To Dennis.] I began to feel sympathetic 
towards this .scheme, dear Dennis — quite sympathetic, 
you know. 

[Amelia, carrying the baby, is seen descending 
the area-steps quickly, followed by John. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 137 

Amelia. 
[ Outside excitedly. "\ Oh, m'm ! Oil, m'm ! If you 
please, m'm. 

Mrs. Veale. 
Why, here's 'Melia back ! and father! [She hurries 
to the door and admits Amelia and Ye ale.] Gracious, 
'Melia ! whatever has happened ? 

Amelia. 
[Breathlessly, .] Oh, m'm, if you'd 'old baby till I git 
my breath ! [ Coming down.~\ We 'ave 'erried along, 
me and Mr. Yeale. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
[Taking the baby.] Sit down a minute, 'Melia. 
Father, what is it ? 

Yeale. 
'Melia '11 tell you, 'Etty, my dear. I'm reether 
blown, mother. 

Amelia sinks into a chair with her hand to 
her heart. 

Amelia. 
Me and Mr. Yeale, m'm, went straight up Little 
Cowper Street, bein' the nearest way to the Park 
gate, and along Peel Row, and no one could a' been 
carefuller o' cabs and busses than me, 'olclin' baby 
in one arm as I did and leadin' Mr. Yeale by the 
other 'and, my jacket not being one to place confidence 
in. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Well, 'Melia? 

Amelia. 
Well, m'm, jest as we was crossin' of Great George 
Street, bein' wishful to shift baby from my lef to my 



138 LADY BOVXTIFUL. 

right, I let go Mr. Yeale and I see 'im stragglin' 
across the road for all the world as if lie was goin' 
under a milk- cart. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
Father ! 

Amelia. 

So I gives a shriek and calls out, " Mr. Yeale ! 
come to 'Melia ! Mr. Yeale ! " and at that very 
moment a lady and gentleman walks straight out 
of a 'ouse in George Street, and the lady lays 
'old o' me and says, "Did you say Mr. Yeale, 
child ?" and not bein' wishful to tell a untruth I 
owned it. 

Mrs. Yeale. 

A lady and gentleman ! 

Amelia. 
Yes, m'm, a old gentleman with as nice a way with 
'im as Tin wishful to see, and a young lady with 
sech eyes and 'air and teeth. And I reekernised 
her, m'm — ah, I reekernised her the minute I see 
her ! 

Mrs. Yeale. 
You recognised her, 'Melia ! 

Amelia. 
Yes, m'm — the young lady who came one day along 
of others to the IiidiiT Academy. 

Mes. Yeale. 
Why, Dennis ! 

Roderick Heron. 
Really, you know, this is very interesting ! Den- 
nis! [Dexxis turns his back upon the group and 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 139 

walls slowly away, then stands, with his head bowed 
listening.'] Go on, my good, girl, go on ! 

Amelia. 
"Well, m'm, and when the young lady found out 
who Mr. Yeale was she gives a sharp look at baby 
and she says, says she, "Tell me this child's name," 
she says, " quick ! " " She ain't christened yet," I 
says, " her mother 'avin been at death's door ; but 
it will be — if we all live — " I says "It will be Mar- 
garet." And then she looks at me in a sort o' startled 
way and says, " Margaret — Heron f " she says. And 
I jest nodded. And, oh, m'm, it was sweet the way 
she be'aved towards baby. 

Roderick Heron. 
Why, why, why, why ? 

Amelia. 
She jest lifts baby's veil, m'm, as careful as if the 
child was made o' gold, and she looks in its face and 
stares at it without seemin' to breathe. And then I 
see a big tear creepin' down her cheek, and she 
brushed it away with her 'and, but another come to 
quick for her and fell on baby's robe. And then 
she turned away and whispered to the old gentle- 
man, and he gives her a gold pencil and a leaf out 
of his pocket-book, and she writes on it ; and I see 
her 'and all shakin' and tremblin', m'm, as she 
pinned the paper on to baby's frock — 'jest 'ere. 
Look m'm ! 

[Amelia turns back the babi/s robe, showing 
a scrap of paper pinned to the frock. 

Mrs. Yeale. 
[Looking round toicards Dennis.] Dennis. 



140 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Roderick Heron. 
[Gaily."]. Dennis, my dear boy! Dennis coming 
slowly down and, bending over the hah;/, reads in a 
loic voice.] " The child carries this message to its 
mother asking her not to refuse to see Camilla 
Brent." 

\_TJtere is a knock at the door. Amelia 
opens it, and Sir Richard Philliter 
is seen on the threshold* 

Sir Richard. 

The person living on the floor above has been good 
enough to admit me. Mr. Dennis Heron ? 

Mrs. Veale. 
Come in, sir — do, pray. 

Sir Richard. 
Thank you. [Advancing to Dennis and taking 
his hand voarmly.~\ My dear Dennis, how do you do ? 

Dennis. 

Sir Richard. 

Roderick Heron. 
Now, this is really a delightful visit — a gratifying 
visit you know. 

[Dennis mokes way for Roderick who ad- 
vances to Phillitee but the latter bozos 
stiffly ami does not accept Roderick's 
hand. 

Sir Richard. 
[Turning to the flowers on the table.] Dennis, 
what bright and cheerful flowers. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 141 

RODEEICK He EON". 

Quite so. 

Mes. Veale. 
\_I)i a whisper, .] John ! 'Melia ! 

[Mes. Yeale carrying the baby, withdraws 
quietly, followed by Amelia and Yeale. 

RODEEICK HEEON. 

Dear Dennis, pray entertain Sir Richard while I 
smoke my cigarette in the — ah — in the little front 
garden. This is really a memorable meeting, you 
know. [As he goes out.'] Where the devil is Cam- 
illa? 

\_Ue goes into the area lohere he is seen walk- 
ing to and fro, smoking. 

SlE RlCHAED. 

Well, Dennis, my dear fellow ! " Confound him ! " 
you're saying to yourself, " what's he doing here ? " 

Dennis. 
No, no — indeed. 

Sie. RlCHAED. 

How well you're looking ! I ought to tell you — 
Camilla returned suddenly to England, for a few 
hours, last night and, rinding I was free, sent me a 
line begging me to escort her to her lawyers this 
morning, and as we were leaving Maule & Crad- 
dock's we fell upon your little maid and the baby, 
and heard of your wife's grave illness. All right 
now, eh? 

Dennis. 

Yes, thank God ! 



142 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Sir Tvktiaed. 

Good — good. But you know what women are. 
Directly Camilla learnt the facts she said to me, 
" Richard — " IVe taught her to call me Richard, at 
last — « Richard, I know that Dennis has grown away 
from his old friends and companions, and that he 
and I have become strangers ; but his wife has been 
lying at the point of death, and I must — I must 
nurse that baby!" [Dennis turns slightly away 
from Philliteb.] And this accounts for my shame- 
less intrusion. 

Dennis. 

And — where — is Camilla — now ? 

So; RjCHAED. 

Camilla ? Oh, Camilla is upstairs, with Mrs. 
Heron. 

Dennis. 
She is — very good. She was — always — very good. 
[ He stam Is lo oking int o t/i e t fire . 
Sir Richaed. 
[ To himsi If, eyeing Den \ is.] There are different 
kinds of heroes'; the hero who bangs a drum, or 
waves a flag, or spouts, or bullies, or prays to God, 
with a newspaper reporter at his back — and there's 
another sort. This man is of the other sort. 
Camilla enters noiselessly, carryiny ihebaby dircsted 
of its bonnet and robe. 

Camilla. 

[/Softly.'] Dennis. [Dennis turns and advances to- 
wards her look in</ down upon the baby.] Hush ! 

\_Goi)i<j down on her Jeness she places the 

baby in its cradle. The two men icatch 
her. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 143 

Sir Richard. 
\_In an undertone, laying his hand on Dexxts's 
arm.'] Bless me ! Dennis, I've seen her, a little 
child, playing with her doll — like that. 

[Roderick looks in at the window, then 
hastily enters. 

Roderick IIerox. 
My dear niece ! 

[Camilla rises quickly and confronts him 
with an altered manner. 

Camilla . 
Uncle ! 

Roderick Herox. 
Now this is an affecting family reunion — it really 
is! 

Camilla. 
Uncle Roderick, I am here to see Dennis, and his 
wife and child. It may be years before they and I 
meet again — we may never meet again. But, for all 
that, I will go out of this house without another 
word if you do not leave this room at once. 

Roderick Herox. 
I think I understand, Camilla. I am the victim 
of tale-bearing, of false report. I had hoped, you 
know, for a general exchange of toleration and for- 
giveness — but I am mistaken. \_Loftily.~] I am 

mistaken in you, my sister's child Ah! And I 

am mistaken, I regret to find, in Dennis. It's a 
terrible shock — really a terrible shock — to me to 
realise that in every action of his life, in the selec- 
tion of his associates, in the choice of a career, my 



144 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

son has been actuated solely by considerations of 
self. [Opening the door.'] 1 shall remain upstairs 
— the front room on the second floor, you know. 

\He goes out. 
Camilla. 
[ Gently, to Dennis.] Nevermind. She is ready 
— fetch her. Dennis nods to Camilla and silently 
goes out. As he disappears, Camilla puts her hand- 
kerchief to her eyes.'] Oh, dear! oh, dear! How 
poor tney are ! How poor they are ! 

Sir Richard. 

Don't, Camilla, pray don't ! 



Richard. 
My dear ? 



Camilla. 
Sir Richard. 



Camilla. 
[Withlitth stifled sobs.] You — you — do-n't think 
I've wronged — Uncle Roderick, do you ? 

Sir Richard. 
Wronged him ! 

Camilla. 
I'm not clever at analysing character. Richard, 
do you believe Uncle Roderick knows he's so shock- 
ingly wicked ? 

Sir Richard. 
No. 

Camilla. 
Oh ! then what have I done ? 



LAD Y BOUN TIFUL. 145 

Sir Richard. 
No, I don't think he knows he's a scoundrel — but 
I imagine he half suspects it. 

Camilla. 
Ah, thank you. Richard, poor Dennis is leaving 
England, to farm, in America. 

Sir Richard. 
Bless me ! By himself ? 

Camilla. 
No — with everybody belonging to him. They're 
enough to found a colony. 

Sir Richard. 
Yes — they might start the jail with Roderick. 

Camilla. 
Mrs. Heron tells me that Dennis is going to the 
shipping-agent to-day. Richard, do something for 
me. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear child. 

Camilla. 
Make some excuse for taking him there at once, 
find out the name of the vessel, and then we'll enter 
into an underhand arrangement with the agent for 
their comfort — shall we ? 

Sir Richard. 
Even for Roderick's comfort ? 

Camilla. 

Yes. Even — Uncle — Roderick. 
10 



146 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 
Ah, bless you, Lady Bountiful ! 

Margaret. 
[ Outside, calling softly.'] Miss Brent ! Miss Brent ! 

Camilla. 
That's Mrs. Heron. [She runs to the door and 
throws it open.] Mrs. Heron. 

[Veale enters, looking behind hi//).] 
Vkale. 
[ With feeble gaiety.'] Meg coming down — seems 
like old times — afore the bankruptcy ! 

[Dennis enters carrging Margaret who looks pale 
and fragile. JI, puts her in the arm-chair^ and 
arranges the hassock and shawl, while Mr. and 
Mrs. Veale look on.] 

Margaret. 
[Smiling.] Ah Miss Brent, ain't I silly not to 
run down stairs? [Seeing the flowers.] Oh! [She 
passes her hand over th\ blossoms then picks vp one 
of the books, looking vp into his J ace gratefully.] 
Dennis ! 

Camilla. 
[Advancing with Phil liter.] Mrs. Heron, this is 
my friend, Sir Richard Philliter. 

Margaret. 

[ Timidly.] How do you do, sir ? 

Sir Richard. 

[Taking Margarets hand.] Mrs. Heron, there is 
no one apart from your own family, more rejoiced 
to see you recovered. And such a fine boy ! 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 147 

Camilla. 
\_Quietly to him."] Girl. 

Sir Richard. 
Girl. [A little disconcerted.'] Ah ! 

\_He goes to Dennis. 
Mrs. Veale. 
[ To Margaret.] Father and me won't be long 
doing our shopping, Meg. Come along, John. 

Veale. 

Seems like old times — afore the 



Mrs. Veale. 
Hush, father ! Here's your hat. 

[John and Mrs. Veale go out and ascend 
the area steps. 

Camilla. 
[ Quietly to Philliter.] Now ! 

Sir Richard. 
Dennis, I know you've some business out of doors. 
I think we can be spared for a little while. My cab's 
outside. 

Camilla. 
[Removing her hat.~\ Go, go, go — I'll take care of 
Mrs. Heron. 

Dennis. 
Meg? 

Margaret. 
[Softly to him.'] I want to speak to Miss Brent 
with nobody by. Go to the shipping-office, and find 
out — the day. 



148 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Dennis. 

It's a long voyage for you, Meg. 

M.VIIGAKET. 

I'm ready. 

Dennis. 

With hope — ah, but with uncertainty at the end 
of it, 

Mabgabet. 
I'm ready.' 

[Dennis and Phtlliteb go out tor/ether. 

MaeGABET turn8, tonl watcher their 'joint/. 

Camilla. 
How courageous of those two men to leave us 
together. Three wicked gossips ! [Placing h< r chair 
by Mabgabet.] You, I, [looking towards the cradle] 
and that little magpie in her nest, 

Mabgabet. 

[In a low voice.'] Miss Brent. 

Camilla. 

Yes? 

Mabgabet. 

Sick folks are always humoured and spoilt. Will 
you stand over there, away from me, and let me look 
at you well ? 

Camilla. 

Of course I will. Here ? 

Margaret. 
There. [Looking eagerly at Camilla.] I'm going 
to stare at you, to take you into my memory — your 
face, your dress, your ways — may 1 ? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 149 

Camilla. 
Certainly. 

\After a little while Margaret looks away, 
passing her hand over her eyes xoith a 
sigh. 

Margaret. 
Ah! 

Camilla. 
Well? 

Margaret. 
Do you wonder why I'm trying to get you by 
heart ? 

Camilla. 
To remember me kindly ? 

Margaret. 

Ah, yes — yes. I'll tell you. Miss Brent ! 

Camilla. 
\_Sitting beside her.'] Hush ! What's the matter? 

Margaret. 
Miss Brent, I know — I've known for ever so long 
— that you and Dennis loved each other. [Camilla 
shrinks from her.'] Don't go away from me. I'm not 
jealous any longer. 

Camilla. 
Jealous ! 

Margaret. 
Perhaps if I'd known you always as I do now I 
might have been spared the agony of that sort o' feel- 
ing. For, oh, it was strong on me at first ! It was 
bitter to me at first ! 



150 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
T — T mustn't deny it. It is true, Dennis and I were 
attached to each other once, in a strange kind of way. 
Who — who told you ? 

Margaret. 

Mr. Roderick Heron told me. 

Camilla. 
[ With indignation."] Mr Heron! 

Margaret. 

It was one day, when the crash first came at home, 
and I reproached Mr. Heron with what he'd done for 

us — and he turned on me and let me have the 
truth. 

( Iamzlla. 
And what was his notion of the truth? 

Margaret. 

\_IL r hands clasped, staring straight before her.] 
That Dennis missed his chance with you and picked 
me up out of pity. 

Camilla. 
Oh! 

[Camilla is about to rise — Margaret stays 
her. 

Margaret. 
It was the truth ! S< >mehow I knew it was the truth ! 
ITe might a' told me in softer words, or only half told 
me — but there it was, Miss Brent, and it came home 
to me as if I had been caught by the throat and horse- 
whipped ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 151 

Camilla. 

Oh, don't sjoeak like that ! 

Margaret. 
Every kind feeling 1 in me was torn by it and set 
bleeding. I hated the thought of you ! I hated the 
sight of him — my husband ! It brought out o' me all 
the bad qualities that common people have, and I 
hated myself worst of all ! 

Camilla. 
Why didn't you ask Dennis to tell you his story ? 

Margaret. 

Oh, he told it me. But what did it seem to me — a 
jealous, ignorant young wife ? I saw it all so clear, 
I could a' made a tale out of it ! I saw him leaving 
your fine house after a lovers' tiff ; I saw how he 
came to console himself with me, just the sort o* 
poor thing to deaden a man's trouble for a time I 
And I saw why you'd left England before our wed- 
ding ! 

Camilla. 

[Faintly. ~] What do you mean? 

Margaret. 
It was because you still loved him and wanted to 
drive him out of your head ! 

[Camilla rises — Margaret ?*ises with her. 
Camilla. 
[ With a cry of distress.'] Ah ! 
Margaret. 
And do you know, do you know what I did when 
all this came on me ? 



152 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
\Appealingly.~\ Be silent ! you are ill ! 

Margaret. 

I prayed that in some foreign place you'd fall sick, 
of a fever, and waste under it, that you'd live — live 
to meet my husband again in England, showing him 
a plain, altered face to compare with my rosy cheeks 
and bright eyes! I prayed that — God forgive me 
for it! — and now, look at me! Ah, if I could have 
seen myself as I was to be, Miss Brent ! If I could 
only have seen myself as I was to be ! 

[Camilla takes her in her arms. 

(' LMTLLA. 

Hush! hush! Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Heron ! You're 
all right with me now, a rend you — you re all right 
with me now ? 

Margae 
Yes, yes. It's all done with now. 

[Camtli v plaa s /" r t< ndi rly In the chair and 
km els by her si 

(v:|| \. 

That's right — that's right. 

Margaret. 

Ah, but you don't know what a cruel wife I've 

been to hi in. 

C \MILLA. 

Because of me? Not because of me? 

Margaret. 

Yes, I couldn't help it. The thought of you— you, 
a lady, so much higher than me — used to send me 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 153 

crazy ; and for months, while he was struggling hard 
to keep a roof over us, and when I should a' been 
cheering and consoling him, I never opened my 
mouth but to torture him with a taunt or a sneer. 

Camilla. 
Oh! Tell me again it's different now! It's 
different now, isn't it ? 

Margaret. 
Oh, yes, Miss Brent, it's different now. 

Camilla. 
I — I'm so glad. I am — so glad ! 

Margaret. 

Slowly enough, the horrible jealousy seemed to 
burn itself out [putting her //and to her bosom] here. 
It's his love that's made me a better woman. He's 
been so good to me, Miss Brent — my husband's been 
so good to me ! 

Camilla. 

Ah, yes. 

Margaret. 

Always patient — always tender — seeming not to 
hear when I've blurted out ignorant things, instead 
of wincing under 'em— always remembering me in a 
hundred small ways as if he'd been born to it. And 
as I've been lying upstairs, through long days and 
long nights, thinking, and thinking, and thinking, 
I've come to know him better and to love him truly. 

Camilla. 
Ah, heaven bless you both! Heaven bless and 
prosper you both ! 



1 54 LAD Y BO US TIFUL. 

Margaret. 

And now, Miss Brent, there's something I want to 
put on paper and give into your hands before I start 
on this voyage. 

Camilla. 

Into my hands ? 

Margaret. 
I've got it by heart. It's come to me, bit by bit 
at odd times ; and I meant bo send it to you somehow 
before I sailed, never expecting the Btrange luck of 
Kimwingyou to talk to. [^Looking towards the bureau.] 
I'll get my blotting-book and pen and ink. 

Camilla. 
No, no — let me bring them to you. [Going to the 
bureau.] Are they here? 



Yes. 



Margaret. 

[Camilla opens the lid of the bureau and 
takes out 'i small inh-*t<<nd and blotting- 
book. 117///' Camilla's back is turned, 
Margaret m< s, and stands looking down 
upon th< cradle thoughtfully* 

Camilla. 
\_PJaciug the writing materials upon the table, see- 
ing Margaret.] Mrs. Heron! [Going quirk};/ to 
Margaret and looking into her face."] Mrs. Heron! 

Margaret. 
[ In a low, awed voice.] Miss Brent, the idea's come 
to me lately that p'rhaps it isn't meant for me to 
get well and strong again. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 155 

Camilla. 
Oh, hush ! What makes you say that ? 

Margaret. 
[Bending towards the cradle.~] It's my baby that 
tells me so. I seem to have given all the life I had 
to my little child. 

Camilla. 
\_In a whisper. ~\ No, no ! 

Margaret. 
I dread to frighten mother and Dennis — but often, 
when my weary fits are on me, I drop into a sort of 
sleep that isn't like sleep. And it makes me think 
that one day they'll come to wake me, and that 
they'll find the sleep too heavy, and know they're 
not to hear me laugh, nor scold, nor see me running 
about the house any more. 

Camilla. 
These are the sad fancies of a young mother, 
dear Mrs. Heron. 

Margaret. 
P'rhaps — p'rhaps — but still I'm going to give you 
this letter I've thought of. 

Camilla. 
A letter ? 

Margaret. 
Sealed up — addressed to Dennis. 

Camilla. 
Dennis ? 



156 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Margaret. 

Yes. Because if it should so happen Fm taken 
away from him, and he wanders hack to England 
some day without me, likely enough you and he'll 
meet and chat over old times and old faces. 

Camilla. 
But it won't happen ! 

Margaret. 
Well, just lake this letter and keep it by you — 
it's only a kind word that I dearly want to reach 
him through you — and, if what I say should come 
to pass, give it Dennis villi your own hands. 
Promise ! 

( ' \mii.la. 
When Dennis comes hack he'll bring you with 
him, with all the roses in your cheeks again ! 

Margaret. 
P'rhaps — hut promise what I ask. I'll go away 
the happier for it. Promise. 

Camilla. 
Yes, yes, I'll promise. But, Mrs. Heron 

RGARET. 

Thank you. I'll write it. 

[She sits in tlir arm-chair and, opening the 
blotting-book, finds <i sheet of paper and 
writes. At the same moment Dennis 
and Phtlliteb are seen eaminy down 
the area-steps talking^ 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 157 

Camilla. 

Sir Richard and Dennis have come back ! 

Margaret. 
Keep 'em away till I've written this. Just a 
moment — please, Miss Brent ! 

[Camilla goes to the window and opens it. 

Camilla. 
[ Wiping the tears from her eyes — with assumed 
brightness.] Richard — Dennis — come and talk to me 
here. I forbid your coming in. 

Sir Richard. 
Why, what have we done, pray ? 

Camilla. 
Sullied your considerate act of going away by re- 
turning a little too soon. Mrs. Heron is writing some- 
thing — for me — and I won't have her disturbed till 
it's finished. 

Denxis. 
[Advancing to the window — looking in at Margaret 
fondly.'] By Jove, she looks like her old self again, 
as she sits there ! 

Camilla. 
Take care of her, Dennis. 

Dennis. 

Take care of her ! Yes. Why, it puts life into a 
fellow — only just to see her sitting there. And Dr. 
Mordaunt says the voyage will work wonders. 



158 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 
Of course — of course. Have you been to the 
shipping-agent ? 

Sir Richard. 
Yes. 

Camilla. 
Ah ! when is it to be ? 

Dennis. 
Thursday, the 16th — from Liverpool. 

(' WII.LA. 

I sha'n't forget it. I shall think of you all, from 
among the pines, in my dull link' chalet in Switzer- 
land. Tell me the name of the ship. 

Dennis. 

The " Orion." 

Camilla. 
The " Orion." Bless the " Orion ! " 



Amen ! 
Amen ! 



Sir Richard. 
Den ms. 



Camilla. 
There ! I'm forgetting the open window. I'll 
come out to you. \_<Jlosin</ the window. <md going to 
the door.'] Call me, Mrs. Heron. 

[She joins the ticomen outside. 
[Margaret finishes her letter carefully, then 
looks over her shoulder to assure herself 
that she is alone and reads it. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 159 

Margaret. 
"Dennis. Something tells me that— if— yon — 
lose me — yon and Miss Camilla Brent will meet 
again, and marry. She's the lady whose place I 
took — and it's only natural — and I've taught myself 
to think of it without feeling wretched. So I want 
you to be sure that no shadow of mine comes be- 
tween you — and that — I wish it." That's all — that's 
all. \_She encloses the letter in an envelope and seals 
and addresses it.~] "Mr. — Dennis — Heron. With — 
my — love." [ Going to the window and tapping at it.] 
Miss Brent — Dennis ! 

[Camilla, Philliter, and Dennis enter.'] 

Dennis. 

[ To Margaret.] Beginning to run before you've 
learnt to walk. I'll tell Dr. Mordaunt. 

Margaret. 
Ah, no tales, and I won't disobey again ! 

[Dennis arranges the chair in its former posi- 
tion. As he does so Margaret slips her 
letter into Camilla's hand. 

Dennis. 

Meg, dear. [Places the shawl around her.] 

Margaret. 
Is it settled ? 

Dennis. 
A week from to-morrow. 

Margaret. 
I am ready. \_He puts her in the arm-chair."] 



160 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 

And now, as Mrs. Heron looks fatigued it is very 
lucky that I have to run away with Miss Brent. 
She has a night journey before her, to Paris. Ca- 
milla, Aunt Anne is pacing the room impatiently at 
the hotel. 

Camilla. 

Yes — I'm forgetting. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear Mrs. Heron, please remember an old 
friend of your husband's. 

Margaret. 
[Timidly."] Good-bye, sir. 

Sir Richard. 
I know I shall hear frequently of your health, 
your happiness, and your welfare in the bright, new 
country you have chosen. [Turning to Dennis, 
heartily.'] Dennis. 

Camilla. 
[ To Margaret.] I shall write to you from Paris, 
to-morrow. Think of me always, and I'll think 
much of you. 

Margaret. 
Ah, indeed I will. 

Camilla. 
Yes — but whom will you think of ? 

Margaret. 
Miss Brent. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 161 

Camilla. 
Miss Brent is my aunt. Try again — Meg. 

Margaret. 
Camilla. 

Camilla. 
That's right. [ The two women kiss silently. 

Sir Richard. 
Camilla, my dear. 

Camilla. 
Yes, yes. 

[Margaret is sitting in deep thought. 
"With a quick movement, Camilla, un- 
observed, takes a simple necklace from 
her throat and drops it into the cradle. 

Camilla. 
\_Hurriedly.~] No, no, we'll not take Dennis from 
Margaret. Follow me, Richard ! No farewells ! 

[She goes guickly oat without looking 
back. 

Sir Richard. 
\_Folloicing her, cheerily. ,] Ha, ha ! We always 
humour her. No farewells, my dear Dennis, no fare- 
wells ! 

[Camilla and Sir Richard ascend the steps, 
and disappear. 

Dennis. 

[ Watching their going from the wi?idow, then com- 
ing down to Margaret.] They wouldn't let me take 
'em to the door — they've run up the steps. 
11 



1 62 LAD T BO VNTIFUL. 

Margaret. 

Fancy, Dennis ! A gentleman and a lady goi&g 
up our poor steps ! That's like the fairies who al- 
ways prefer the chimney. Dennis. 

Dennis. 
Yes Meg? [lie sits beside her. 

Margaret. 

I've made friends with her now, and talked to her. 
She's a good woman. 

Dennis. 
Yes — she's a good woman. 

Margaret. 

And, Dennis dear, I — I've told her. 

Dennis. 

Told her ? 

Margaret. 
About my jealousy, and how I once hated her 
because she'd been your sweetheart. 

Dennis. 

There was no need, dear one — there was no need. 

Margaret. 
Ah, but there was — because I'm so much easier 
for it now. She's kissed me, and let me call her 
Camilla. Camilla. I wonder whether — our child — 
will ever learn — to love her. 

Dennis. 
Why, you shall teach the little one to do that, if 
you like, Meg. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 163 

Margaret. 
[Leaning back with a sorrowful sigh.'] Ah ! 

Dennis. 
You're very tired. I must carry you upstairs 
again. 

Margaret. 
Ah, not yet ; it's like sending me back to prison. 
Keep me here a little longer. 

Dexxis. 
But what will Dr. Mordaunt say ? 

Margaret. 
He won't mind — will he — if we pay his bill before 
we leave. 

Dexxis. 
[Laughing.] Ha, ha ! 

Margaret. 
Ah, now I've made you laugh I know I'll have my 
own way. Go and smoke your pipe while I shut my 
eyes and rest. 

[He rises and arranges the shawl about her 
shoulders. 

Dexxis. 

[Softly."] That's a good Meg — a very good Meg ! 
[Filling his pipe he bends oner the cradle. Margaret 
opens her eyes watching him.] 

Margaret. 
Dennis. 

Dexxis. 
Yes, Meg ! 



164 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Margaret. 
Reckoning to him with a motion of her head."] 
Here ! \_He goes to her and stands looking dovm upon 
her.] Dennis dear, suppose — I — never — get well ? 

Dennis. 
[ Under his breath.] Meg dear ! 

Margaret. 

Suppose, when we reach America, you don't see 

me bustling about our new home; but, instead o' 

that, you watch my step getting a little slower every 

day, and hear my voice growing a little quieter, until 

— at last — at last ? \_IIe sinks into a chair beside 

In i\ h><>ki,ig at Jx r app&aMnglyJ] Would it be a pity, 
Dennis — would it be a pity ? 

Dennis. 

Oh, Meg, Meg ! 

\_IIe buries his head in his hands and weeps. 

Margaret. 
[Bending towards Mm fondfyJ] Ah, don't, dear, 
don't. It's cruel to frighten you. I don't want to 
leave you — indeed I don't. [Laying her hand upon 
his head tenderly. , ] You' ve been such a good husband 
to me, dear — such a good husband. 

Dennis. 
No, Meg, no. 

Margaret. 

And T — I've taken the heart out of you and made 
your life a hard one. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 165 

Dennis. 

[ Taking her hand and bending over it.~\ All good 
lessons are hard, Meg, and we've had to learn ours. 

Margaret. 
Oh, but if I could only make it up to you for the 
misery I've caused you ! If I could only make it up 
to you ! 

Dennis. 
There's nothing for you to make up, Meg. We 
were young people who didn't know each other. 
And now we've weathered the storm, and we're 
happy, my dear wife, we're happy. 

Margaret. 

Ah, poor Dennis ! Kind — forgiving Dennis ! 

[She lays her head upon his shoulder for a moment, 

then she looks up, listening '.] Is that Dr. Mordaunt? 

\_He goes to the window and looks out. 

Dennis. 

Not yet. 

\_IIe returns to her. She is leaning back 
in her chair. 

Margaret. 

I'll rest now, Dennis — I won't call you any more. 

Let me see you talking to the child again ; I love 

you to do that — and p'rhaps you'll talk me to sleep. 

\_IIe goes to the cradle, Margaret lies watching 

him fondly. 

Dennis. 

\_In a low voice, but cheerily, to the baby.~\ 
Mother says I'm to talk to you. What shall I tell 



1G6 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

you? Well, look here! You're going to a new 
country, you are — do you know that? To a tine, 
new country where your mother will soon be a 
strong mother again. And you've got to spring up 
into a tall, young woman — mother's companion, 
mother's right-hand ; loving me a little, but think- 
ing and believing that nothing in the world is so 
good and sweet as your mother is. Ah, you hear 
that, do you? [He moves the cradle gently. ] What 
are you staring at ? The clock ? That'll tick for 
us in our new home through many a happy day, 
please God ! [Raising his head, listening.'] Doesn't 
it tick, eh? [In a whisper, wonderingly.] How 
loudly it ticks ! [He turns, looking at Margaret;. 
She is lying in the position in which he left her but 
with, her eyes closed. He listens to the clock (((join, 
then rises and creeps over to Margaret. JLoohing 
■into her face in a whisper."] Meg! Meg dear! Tie 
touches her hand, which lies (/cross the arm of the 
choir — tin 1m ml jails into In r lap. \_JIe goes bach a 
little, staring at her, then throws himself at her feet 
■with a piteous cry.] Meg ! clont leave me like that ! 
don't leave me like thai ! 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 16' 



THE FOURTH ACT. 
CAMILLA GOES TO THE ALTAR. 

The scene is the interior of an old country church, icith 
plain stonewalls and pillars. The nave is sepa- 
rated from the aisle by three pillars spanned by 
arches. The church is decorated with flowers. It 
is late in the afternoon and the light is fading. 
Fiveyears have p>assed since the death of Margaret. 

Mrs. Hodxutt, a little old woman, dressed in black, 
enters and as she does so, Pedgrift, a withered, 
bald-headed old man, ascends the spiral stair which 
leads from the crypt, carrying a piece of flat orna- 
mental brass which he is anxiously rubbing with a 
rag. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
I didn't know you was in the cryp', Mr. Pedgrift. 

Pedgrift. 
[ Glancing at her under his broics.~\ Ugh ! I'm alius 
at work, Mrs. Hocinutt, ma'am — alius at work. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
To be sure — on them brasses. 

Pedgrift. 

Aye. I've lighted on some more bits under the 

rubbidge in the Hethelbert chapel. If I were schol- 

ard enough to 'cipher the 'scriptions I could piece 

'em together. Lovely brasses ! Beautiful brasses ! 



1 68 LAD Y BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Can I be of 'elp, Mr. Pedgrift? 

Pedgrift. 
[Slipping the brass under his coat.] Nay. I don't 
require no women folk a' interferin' and reaping my 
glory. So, 'old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Hodnutt ! 

Mas. Hodnutt. 
[ With asperity.'] Oh, to be sure! Turning away 
and arranging toeo chairs."] I wouldn't waste my 
precious time. 

Pedgkeft. 
Waste o' time ! In discoverin' and preservin' the 
Bplendidest monyments ever set up to mortal men! 
'Old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Hodnutt ! It's a cheap age we 
live in, ma'am, and soft stone's good enough for noo 
folk. But it's brasses what perpetuates the days o' 
England's greatness, audit's old Pedgrift what per- 
petuates brasses ! 

Mrs. IToDMTT. 

[ Contemptuously.] Oh, to be sure ! 

Pedgrift. 
What are you doin' 'ere at six o'clock hi the arter- 
noon, Mrs. Hodnutt ? 

Mrs. ITodxutt. 
I'm expectin' Miss Camilly, and her good gentle- 
man as is to' be, to step down fromth' Grange to view 
the school-children's flowers. 

Pedgrift. 
I thought the children was to show their decora- 
tions to Miss Camilla and th' Grange party at mid- 
day? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 169 

Mes. Hodnutt. 
So they was to, the noisy imps ! And, after 
bringing all their mess and muddle into my church, 
aAvay comes a groom to say as Miss Camilly's got a 
sick 'ead but 'opes to stroll down durin' the a'rter- 
noon, [Mysteriously. ,] A sick 'ead, Mr. Pedgrift ! 
Ahhh ! to be sure ! 

Pedgrift. 
If Miss Camilly gives her mind to a sick 'ead let 
her enj'y it. You 'old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Hodnutt ! 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
It's a sad sight to see a young 'ooman ailin' and 
frettin' the day before the wedcliii , Mr. Pedgrift. 

Pedgrift. 
[Polishing and breathing on the brass."] It's a sad 
enough sight to see a young 'ooman anyways, 'cept- 
ing they be carved on brasses. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Though, to be sure, I guess what's amiss wi' Miss 
Camilly. 

Pedgrift. 
'Old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Hodnutt ! 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Not but what Sir Richard's a fine, well-kep' gentle- 
man; but I don't fancy bright eyes and red lips 
comin' to my church wi' white 'air and wrinkles. 
He's ripening for sixty, Sir Richard is. 



170 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Pedgrift. 
Aye — time he was thinkin' of his final brasses. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
To be sure! No, Mr. Pedgrift, Miss Camilly 
missed her match when we lost young Dennis Heron 
out of Lydgate. 

Pedgrift. 
'Old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Ilodnutt. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 

Many a time I've watched 'em standing together 
in the Brent pew, both singin' out o' the one book 
though they'd just knelt on a box full, and I've said 
to myself, " there's man and wife for ye, and a gay 
weddin' for St. Eanswythe ! " Ah, to be sure, that's 
the man we ought to a' seen in our old church to- 
morrow mornin'. 

Pedgrift. 

Aye, Mrs. Ilodnutt, and don't 'ee be over certain 
as 'ow you wont see young Dennis Heron in our 
church to-morrow marnin'. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
Eh ? Why, the young man run away to Lunnon, 
and then sailed for Anieriky fortune seeking, five 
year ago, folks say. He's in Ameriky, Samuel 
Pedgrift. 

Pedgrift. 
Well, he warn't in Ameriky at ha'-past-fower this 
arternoon. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
You've seen 'im ! Here in Lydgate ! 



LAD Y BO UN TIFUL. 171 

Pedgrift. 
'Old 'ee tongue, Mrs. Hoclnutt ! 

Sir Lucian Brent and Beatrix enter through 
the porch. Luctan is now a young man with 
an important manner and a moustache. 
Beatrix is a fashionably-dressed '•'•grown- 
up " girl, bright and unaffected. 

Lucian. 
Good afternoon, Mrs. Hoclnutt ! Afternoon, Ped- 

grif t ! 

Beatrix. 
Well, Granny ! Well, Samuel, how are you ? 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Good arternoon to you, Sir Looshan ! Bless you, 
Miss Be'tric ! 

Pedgrift. 
[Pushing his brass up his ivaistcoat.~\ Arternoon, 
sir ! Arternoon, miss ! 

Litcian. 

My sister and Sir Richard are coming over the 
meadow 

Beatrix. 

They so want to look at the decorations, Granny 
Hoclnutt. Of course they will see them to-morrow 
morning ; but that will be different, wont it ? [Look- 
ing round,'] And is this all the school-children's 
handiwork ? How delightful ! 



172 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
They 'ad my 'elp, the clear pets — my willin' 'elp. 

Beatrix. 
What a terrible disappointment for them, my 
sister's bad headache this morning! Lucian, see! 
How charming ! 

Lucian. 
["With dignity,'] Very tasteful. The spread of 
education among the masses engenders an apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful. 

Pedgrift. 
[Mdging up to Luculn emd whispermg^] Sir Loo- 
shan, Sir Looshan. 

Lucian. 
Eh? 

Pedgrift. 
[Producing the brass from beneath his waistcoat.'] 
I've got some bits o' brasses down below in my cryp' ; 
like this ere bit. 

Lucian. 
Indeed? 

Pedgrift. 
If you gave me a 'elpin 'and wi' the Latin that's 
on 'em I could piece 'em together, Sir Looshan. 

Lucian. 

[ Uncomfortably.'] Latin inscriptions ? 

Pedgrift. 
I know you was a college gentleman, Sir Loo- 
shan — 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 173 

Litcian. 
Exactly — ah — but my Latin, Pedgrift, is modern 
Latin. [Pointing to the b?*ass.) That's old Latin — 
different thing altogether. [Lucian walks towards 
the jjorch.] 

Pedgrift. 
[Disappointed.] Oh, lor, yah, nah ! 

Beatrix. 
Granny Hodnutt, do you think Pedgrift would let 
me have the key of the organ ? 

Mrs. Hodxtjtt. 
[Shaking her head negatively -.] Ahhh ! 

Beatrix. 
Oh ! [She goes to Pedgrift.] Samuel, I should 
like to make friends again with the dear old organ 
of St. Eanswythe. Lend me the key. 

Pedgrift. 
Kay, nay, Mr. Fletcher don't fancy strange 'ands 
on the organ. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
[ To Beatrix who has moved away from Pedgrift.] 
Bide a bit, missy. [ To Pedgrift.] I want to open 
the West Door, Mr. Pedgrift. 

Pedgrift. 
[Still contemplating his brass.~\ Yah ! nah ! 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
D'ye hear me, Samuel Pedgrift ? 



174 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Pedgrift. 
[Talcing his bunch of keys and passing them to 
Mrs. Hodnutt.] 'Old'ee tongue, Mrs. Hodnult! 

[Mrs. Hodnutt selects a hey and hands it to 
Beatrix with a courtesy.] 

Beatrix. 
Dear Granny ! 

Luciax. 
[Looking out through the porch.'] Here are Camilla 
and Richard. 

Beatrix. 
Lucian, come and blow for me. 

Lttoiax. 
[ With dignity .] My dear Beatrix ! Really ! 

[Beatrix takes him off, he protesting, 

Mrs. Hodnitl'. 
Tell me now — do'ee, Mr. Pedgrift! Where did 
ye see Mr. Dennis ? 

Pedgrift. 
Oh, lor ! nah, nah ! 

Mrs. Hodxittt. 
Quick ! 

Pedgrift. 
Well, as I was runnin' up to Maister Taplin's, the 
grocer's, to buy a morsel o' sweet ile to rub my 
brasses wi', I see the folk wand'rin' down from rail- 
way station. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 175 

Mrs. Hodistutt. 
To be sure ! 

Pedgrift. 
And mongst 'em I observed Maister Dennis Heron ! 
'Twas him, changed though he be. 

[The sound of the church organ is heard. 

Pedgrift. 
Why theer's Maister Fletcher come in, on the quiet 
like. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Pedgrift, some'ow I don't believe th' Grange folks 
know as Mr. Dennis is in Lydgate. Shall we ? 

Pedgrift. 
[ Turning upon her sharply.'] Us ! You 'old 'ee 
tongue, Mrs. Hodnutt ! Fine folk's business beant 
yoioer business ! Maister Dennis may be goin' to be 
guest at weddin' to-morrow, or he mayn't ! Grange 
folk may know he's in Lydgate, or they mayn't! 
Maister Dennis may know Miss Camilly's about to 
wife Sir Richard, or he mayn't ! But don't 'ee be a 
busybody in' sort of a elderly woman, Mrs. Hodnutt ; 
and 'old 'ee tongue — d'ye 'ear me ? — 'old 'ee tongue ! 

[Mrs. Hodnutt and Pedgrift separate as 
Miss Brent enters, followed by Camilla 
and Philliter. They all look older. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
[ With many courtesy s.~\ Our duty to you. [ To 
Miss Brent.] And to you, ma'am, and I hope the 
rheumaticks have left you. [To Sir Richard.] 
And all good luck to bride and bridegroom — and 
better late than never to you, Sir Richard, if I may 
pass the compliment. 



176 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 
[Laughing.'] Ha, ha ! Urn — thank you. 

Miss Brent. 

You must not talk too much this afternoon, Mrs. 
Hodnutt. My niece's headache has hardly left her. 
No wonder — the winds are sharp for harvest- time. 

[Miss Brent goes up the aisle looking at the 
flowers through her pince-nez. Pedgrift 
follows her. 

Camilla. 
[ To Mrs. IIodxftt.] I was so miserable at not 
meeting the children this morning. Were they 
grieved ? 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Ah, the lambs, that they was ! 

Miss Brent. 
Mrs. Hodnutt ! 

[Mrs. Hodnutt goes to Miss Brent. 

Camilla. 
[Going to the font, then turning to Philliter with 
a smile.'] Here I was christened. 

Sir Richard. 

Bless me ! [Camilla joins Miss Brent and Mrs. 
Hoxdutt. Sir Richard goes to the font and examines 
it closely through Ms spectacles — to himself] My dear 
Camilla ! Here she was christened — actually chris- 
tened ! 

[Pedgrift, hugging his brass, approaches 
Sir Richard stealthily. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 177 

Pedgrift. 
Your honour — Sir Richard 

Sir Richard. 
Eh? 

Pedgrift. 
'Bleege me wi' a private word, sir. 

[Pedgrift exhibits his piece of brass to 
Philliter; they talk in dumb shoio. 
Miss Brext and Mrs. Hodxutt are 
looking at Camilla who is standing 
in deep thought, with her hands clasped 
before her, staring into the charted. 
The light of the setting sun illumines 
Camilla's figu re. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
[ To Miss Brent.] Look, ma'am ! Look'ee there ! 

Miss Brext. 

Ah! 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 

She's thinking of to-morrow mornin', ma'am, when 
she'll stand there, wedded. 

Miss Brext. 
My niece will be very happy, Hodnutt. 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 

Most like, ma'am, — but the sun's a-settin' on Miss 
Camilly. The sun's a-settin' on Miss Camilly. 



178 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

[Miss Brext and Mrs. Hodnutt still talk- 
ing disappear through porch. 

Sir Richard. 

[ To Pedgrift.] Bring your brass to me here, Ped- 
grift — I won't go clown into the crypt. One can't 
be too careful of a cold at my age — at any age. 

Pedgrift. 

[Going.~\ Yes, sir. [Returning."] But, your hon- 
our — Sir Richard — is your Lathi noo Latin, or hold 
Lathi ? 

Sir Richard. 

I fear it is rather old Latin, Pedgrift. 

Pedgrift. 
IGladhj.-] All! 

[lie disappears down the stairs. Sir 
Richard walks over to Camilla. 

Camilla. 
Ah, Richard ! Do you see the flowers ? 

Sir Richard. 

[Looking into her faceS] Urn ! Too much of the 
lily and not enough of the carnation. 

Camilla. 

Xow you mean my face. I'm always pale, Rich- 
ard. 

Sir Richard. 

You are happy, Camilla ? 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 179 

Camilla. 
Yes. I ought to be. 

Sir Richard. 
And not doubtful, eh? Not doubtful ? 

Camilla. 
Doubtful? 

Sir Richard. 

About the future, my dear — our future. 

Camilla. 
One must be doubtful, however hopeful. 

Sir Richard. 
No, no — no, no. 

Camilla. 
Ah, Richard, a man dies but once, a woman twice 
— the first time when she marries, and then, as at the 
last, wondering at the thereafter. 

Sir Richard. 
Then we begin our married life — doubtful, 
Camilla? 

Camilla. 
And hopeful — I said that. 

Sir Richard. 
[Brightening.'] Of course you did, my dear. Hope- 
fully, eh ! Hopefully ! Hopefully ! [ T/iey walk back 
to the aisle.] There's but one regret. 

Camilla. 
One regret ? 



180 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Sir Richard. 
To-morrow might have been six years old to-day, 
had you willed it so, my dear. 

Camilla. 
You mean ? 

Sir Richard. 
You could have married me more than six years 
ago, Camilla — six precious years. 

Camilla. 
Ah, it is better now. 

Sir Richard. 
[Pleased] Is it, eh? Is it? 

Camilla. 

Six years ago I did not know 

Sir Richard. 
Now you' re going to say something about my 
watchful patience, Camilla. 

Camilla. 

Yes. 

Sir Richard. 
And my untiring constancy ? 

Camilla. 
Yes. 

Sir Richard. 
And my good heart ? And my many other excel- 
tent qualities. 

Camilla. 

Yes — yes. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 181 

Sir Richard. 
I knew it ! But I won't endure it ! It always 
embarrasses me, my dear, and I can't allow it — so 
don't, don't ! 

Camilla. 
But you like me to think you good ? 

Sir Richard. 
[After a moment's pause.'] Yes — I do. 

Camilla. 
And yet never to say it, never to say it ? 

Sir Richard. 
Ah, I'll always tell you the truth, my dear — f 
dearly love to have to stop your saying it. 

[The music of the organ, soft and low, is heard 
again. The warm glow of sunset now fills 
the church, but from this moment the light 
shows the gradual coming of evening. 

Camilla. 
[ Timidly. ~\ Richard. 

Sir Richard. 
My dear? 

Camilla. 
There is something I wish to give you — no, to 
restore to you — while we are alone. 

Sir Richard. 
To restore to me ? 

Camilla. 
Something I robbed you of long ago and kept as a 
memorial of your friendship. [She takes from her 



182 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

pocket the little volume of Horace seen in the First 
Act, holding if behind her.~] But now — we are going 
to be married, and so I pass the little token back to 
you thinking you will care to cherish it in recollec- 
tion of your wife's girlhood. There, Richard ! 

[She places the little book in his hands. 

Sir Richard. 
Dear me ! what's this ? [He opens the book at 
the title-page. ~] My Horace ! 

Camilla. 
[Laughingly. ,] Horace. 

Sir Richard. 
I knew I'd mislaid him ! 

Camilla. 
It has slumbered in my desk for over six years. 
That is what I ran back to the house for ; I wanted 
this chance of giving it to you. 

Sir Richard. 
I must have left it behind me at Fauncourt 
when 

Camilla. 

Yes. 

[/See turns away and, leaning against the 
pence-box, looks out through the porch. 

Sir Richard. 
Bless me, here's the leaf still turned down ! How 
every action conies back to one! There's nothing 
final in life — nothing final. 

[He is endeavouring to find the ribbon of 
his pince-nez, when, unpercewed by him, 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 183 

a letter falls from between the pages of 
the book and lies on the ground at his 

feet. The music of the organ ends softly. 

Sir Richard. 
Of course — of course. [Beading. 

" Desine, dulcium 
" Mater sceva Cupidinum " 

Camilla. 

" Circa lustra decern " 

Sir Richard. 
You know it ! 

Camilla. 
I learnt it afterwards. 

Sir Richard. 
[ Clasping the book.] This is more than precious 
to me! It has been with you six years. To think 
of it — to think of it ! [He pauses, seeing she is still 
turning from him.'] Camilla! [She comes to him, 
her expression is altered, her eyes full of tears. It 
is note twilight. 

Camilla. 
Oh, Richard, you have been so patient. I will try; 
to be a good wife to you ! 

Sir Richard. 
My dear ! 

Miss Brext enters withljucELK and Beatrix, followed 
by Mrs. Hodxutt. 

Miss Brext. 
[Calling softly. ,] Camilla! [Approaching ■ Phil*, 



184 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

liter.] The church is a little chilly, Richard. We 
are unwise in allowing Camilla to remain so long. 

Sir Richard. 

Ah, I'm very thoughtless. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 

[Joining them.'] Sir Richard's kerridge 'ave come 
for him, ma'am — it's at the West Door. [Lucian 
gives his arm to Miss Brent and they all follow Mrs. 
Hodntjtt up the aisle.] Follow me, please — I'll save 
you all an ugly walk round the churchyard, that I 
will. Granny Hodnutt'll open the West Door for 
you, that she will ! Follow Granny llodnutt! [In 
the distance.] .Test a minute, my pretty ladies, while 
Granny llodnutt unlocks the West Door. Blessm's 
on you, Sir Looshan, and you, your honour, if I may 
pass the compliment! 

[Pedgrift comes vp from the crypt laden 
with some pieces of brass. 

Pedgrift. 

[Listening.] Gone. Gone — and not a scrap o' 
Latin out of him! [There is a sound of bolting 
doors']. 

Yah, nah, nah! [lie discovers the letter on the 
ground and picks it up with a (/runt.'] Ugh! [Hold- 
ing the letter close to his eyes.] Theer's writin on it. 
Grange party must ha' dropped that. [Putting it 
in Ms pocket.] I'll walk up to Grange wi' it arter 
tea. Ugh ! [Picking up his brasses.] Who's that ? 

Dennis Heron, a robust-looking man with hair 
turning grey, enters through the porch. 

Pedgrift. 
Maister Dennis. 



LAD Y BO UN TIFUL. 185 

Dennis. 
Thank goodness ! [ Wringing Pedgrift' s hand.'] 
It's Pedgrif t ! 

Pedgrift. 
Aye — not dead yet, Maister Dennis. 

Dennis. 
I'm so glad to see a familiar face. 

Ped GRIFT. 
[ Grimly. ~] Were you wand'rin' about churchyard 
thinkin' to find old friends theer, Maister Dennis ? 

Dennis. 
I strolled into the churchyard, I — I'm killing time. 
I've come all the way from America, Pedgrift — 
arrived yesterday — got down this afternoon, and 
turned into the " George." 

Pedgrift. 

Ah, the " George " beaint the house it used to be, 
Maister Dennis. 

Dennis. 

No. A new landlord, new faces indoors, new 
faces in the stables — not a soul knew me from Adam. 
But I've sent a note to Sir Lucian, telling him where 
I am, and I'm waiting for an answer. I know he's 
at the Grange — I heard his name mentioned at the 
station. 

Pedgrift. 
Aye, Sir Looshan's at the Grange right enough. 

Dennis. 
Have they — a full house at the Grange, Pedgrift ? 



186 LAD Y BO UNTIFUL . 

Pedgrift. 
Aye. 

Dennis. 

Miss Anne Brent — and — Miss Beatrix ? 

Pedgrift. 
Aye — they're theer. 

Dexxis, 
And — and Miss Camilla ? 

Pedgrift. 
Aye. 

Dennis. 
All— all well ? 

Pedgrift, 
Aye — they be all wonderful surprisin' well. 

Dennis. 
Ah! [Looking about him."] Flowers — English 
flowers. Harvest— eh ? Pedgrift, why don't you 
talk to me ! A good harvest ? 

Pedgrift. 

Sodden wi' rain. 

Dexxis. 

Dear old Lydgate ! [ To Pedgrift, who is collect- 
ing his brasses.] What on earth have you got there ? 

Pedgrift. 
Maister Dennis, you was a college gentleman, 
wasn't ye, eh ? 

Dennis. 
Ha ! yes. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 187 

Pedgeift. 
Theer's some durned Latin on my bits o' precious 
brasses. If I could 'cipher it I could piece 'em to- 
gether. 

Dennis. 

The Vicar 

Pedgeift. 
I dursn't trust th' old Vicar, Maister Dennis ; he'd 
rob me of all the credit, he would. If you'd lend me 
a 'elping 'and wi' the Latin 

Dennis. 
I? 

Pedgeift. 
Come down into my cryp', Maister Dennis — I've 
got a lantern theer. [ Going to the head of the stair, ,] 
Do'ee come, Maister Dennis ! Do'ee come ! 

Dennis. 
[Following him.] I can't promise you much 
assistance, Pedgrift. 

Pedgeift. 
[Descending slowly. ~] Do'ee best, Maister Dennis. 
Bless ye ! bless ye ! 

Dennis. 
Be quick ! I want to get back to the " George." 

Pedgeift. 
Guide yourself by wall, sir — that's right, that's 
right. 

[They descend the stair. As they disappear, 
Mes. Hodnutt enters. The faint light of 
the moon enters, and spreads itself over 
the church. 



188 LADY BO UNTIFUL. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 

[Catting.] Pedgrift. % 

Pedgrift. 

[From below.] Yah ! nah ! 'old 'ee tongue ! 
Mrs. Hodxutt. 

[Catting.] The keys are on the font. [Placing 
the keys on the font.] I am going home to my tea. 
[ There is a sound of knocking outside] Eh ? That's 
somebody at the West Door. [The knocking is 
repeat"! impatiently^] Nay, I'll not open the west 
door again to-night, whoever ye may be, that I'll 
promise ye. You must come the way round if ye've 
business at St. Eanswythe this night, and quick 
about it. Late enough for an old woman's tea, to be 
sure, to be sure ! 

[Camilla enters hurriedly^ through the porch. 
Camilla. 
Ah, granny ! 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Miss Camilly ! 

Camilla. 
Something has been lost — a letter. Have you 
seen it '? 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Not to my knowledge, Miss Camilly ; though, to 
be sure 

Camilla. 
[Looking upon the r/round.] Granny, it must be 
found. It's an old letter — I placed it between the 
leaves of a book years ago, and this afternoon I hur- 



LAD Y BO UNTIFUL. 189 

riedly took the book from my desk and gave it to 
Sir Richard, here — just here. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
May be Sir Richard's carryin' it about with him. 

Camilla. 
No — for, as I left the church, the thought of the 
letter came to me suddenly ; it was no longer in the 
book. [She goes up the aisle searching for the letter. 

Mrs. Hodxltt. 
Well, well, like enough I'll find it in the morning. 
Come, come, missy. I'll see ye home across the 
meadow. 

Camilla. 
No, thank you. I've told my brother ; he is com- 
ing back to fetch me. [Returning to the nave.'] I 
can't find it. Ah, it was written by a poor friend, 
who died. Suppose I never find it, dear Granny ! 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Now, dont'ee, now ! dont'ee ! There, there ! Sit 
ye down a bit, and Granny Hodnutt'll search in the 
West Porch. 

[She disappears itp the aisle. It is now 
bright moonlight. 

Camilla. 
How could I have forgotten it ! To have hoarded 
it for five years and then, in one minute of forgetf ul- 
ness, to let it go from me! [She sits by the font. ~\ 
It was a trust. " If he wanders back to England 
some day without me," poor Margaret said, "give it 
to him, with your own hands." And now, if ever 
he returns — if — ever Oh, I mustn't think about 



190 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

that ! No ! God bless me and Richard ! God bless 

me — and Richard ! 

[Dexxis ascends the steps. He passes 
Camilla, not seeing, her, and walks 
across towards the porch. She rises 
with a fa hd cry of fright, at which he 
turns sharply and faces her. They 
stand staring at each other silently. 

Camilla. 

\_In a frightened whisper. ~\ Dennis! 

Dennis. 
Ah! [Going to Jar with outstretched hands.] Ca- 
milla! [She stares at him, still frightened — then 
takes his ha ml for support. Mrs. 
IIodnutt comes down the aisle.'] 

Camilla. 
You — you — frightened me. [Faintly stooping over 
his hand. .] Ah! [She droops, and 'he gently places her 
in a chair. 

Dexxis. 
Why, Granny Hodnutt ! 

Mrs. IIodxutt. 
Mr. Dennis ! Ah, to be sure ! 

Dexxis. 
I've been in the crypt with Pedgrift, burrowing 
among his brasses. Coining up rather silently I fear 
I alarmed my cousin 

Mrs. Hodxutt. 
To be sure ! to be sure ! 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 191 

Camilla. 

[Passing her hand over her eyes.'] Granny. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
My deary ? 

Camilla. 
I — I am very glad to see Mr. Dennis Heron. But 
I didn't expect to meet him — to-night — and I — was 
startled. Wait in the church, Granny, till my 
brother returns for me. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
That I will, Miss Camilly. [Going to the head of 
stairs.] I'll borrow the old man's lantern, sir, and you 
can chat quite cheerful and comfortable. [She de- 
scending. 

Camilla. 



Dennis. 

My dear cousin. 



Dennis. 



Camilla. 
You cannot — have received — my letter. 

Dennis. 
I've had no letter from you for many a day, 
Camilla ! 

Camilla. 
I wrote — some weeks ago. 

Dennis. 
It has missed me. And I wrote home — I mean, to 
you — just before starting. But, at this time o' year, 
I was sure you were in Switzerland. So that has 
missed you ? 



192 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

Camilla. 

Yes. [Faintly. ~\ I have not gone aboard this 
summer — because Ah ! 

Dennis. 

You are still trembling. I am so sorry. 

[She rises, commanding herself. 
Camilla. 
"Why have you come back to England ? 

Dennis. 
To see — my friends. 

Camilla. 
Is everything — well with you — in America ? 

Dennis. 

Everything. I have prospered, Camilla — prospered 
beyond my furthest hope. 

Camilla. 
I am so thankful, Dennis. 

Dennis. 
{.Gratefully.] Ah! 

Camilla. 
Are those around you well — the two old people you 
have so generously cared for ? 

Dennis. 
Well — well and happy. 

Camilla. 
Your father ? 

Dennis. 
Why — strangely enough 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 193 

Camilla. 
What is strange, Dennis ? 

Dennis. 
Well, father has revealed capabilities we hardly 
suspected in England. The simple, rough people up- 
country were — rather — impressed by him. 

Camilla. 
Ah, Uncle Roderick ! 

Dennis. 
Now he's the leading spirit of a big mining con- 
cern, and is making money fast — and — he's not living 
with us now. 

Camilla. 
[ To herself.'] Poor Dennis ! And last— but first 
— your little girl ? 

Dennis. 

She ! She's beautiful ! It's foolish of me to say 
that, perhaps, but — no, it isn't ! She's beautiful ! 

Camilla. 
Dear, dear little Margaret ! That is her name ? 

Dennis. 
Yes — her first name. 

Camilla. 
\_ln a low voice.'] Her second ? 

Dennis. 

Camilla. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
[Ascending the stairs.] I'm coming, Mr. Dennis, 
and trouble enough to wean a light from Mr. Ped- 

13 



194 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

grift. I've news for ye, Miss Camilly — Granny's got 
news for ye. [Appearing with a lighted lantern and 
the lost letter.'] To think that th' old man should 
stand chattering here to you, sir, and, all the time 
[looking at tin A tt> ,- by tin light of the lantern] a letter 
with Mr. Dennis Heron's name on it in his coat- 
pocket. 

Camilla. 



Ah! 

My name ? 



Dexxis. 



Mrs. IIod.nutt. 
To he sure! [To Camilla.] It's Pedgrift as 
found the letter, 'all' a blind man as he is. 

Camilla. 
[Looking at tin letter, hesitatingly, without taking 
it.] Give it to Mr. Dennis, Granny. 

Mrs. IIonxriT. 
[Handing the It tt< r to De ntnis with a courtesy.] To 
be sure I will, Miss Camilly. [Depositing tin lantern 
on tin font. There's a light, sir and missy. [Going 
vp tin aisle.] Call Granny if it needs snuffing. 
Granny's within call. 

[She disappears.. The moonlight is gradu- 
ally di mini shiny. 

Dexxis. 
[Looking at the letter by the lantern light.] Mar- 
garet! [ Turning to Camilla.] Meg! 

Camilla. 
Poor Meg gave me that, Dennis, on the morning 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 195 

I sat with her in Westminster — the morning — 
she 

Dennis. 

Yes. 

Camilla. 

She believed she was not to live, and begged me 
to keep that letter by me until you came back to 
England alone — and then I was to give it to you 
with my own hands. 

Dennis. 

Ah, then ! 

\_IIe offers the letter to Camilla, who takes it. 

Camilla. 
It's a kind word from her, she said, that she 
dearly wanted to reach you through me. For five 
years it has lain between the leaves of a book ; 
bringing the book into the church, the letter fell 
from it, here. And now, we do meet — for the first 
time since that day — and — [returning the letter'] — I 
give it you with my own hands. 

\_IIe takes the letter, with his head bowed, and 
she walks away from him. lie opens 
the letter and reads it by the light of the 
lantern. 

Dennis. 
[Reading to himself] " Dennis. Something tells 
me that, if you lose me, you and Miss Camilla Brent 
will meet again, and — marry. She's the lady whose 
place I took, and it's only natural, and I've taught 
myself to think of it without feeling wretched. So 
I want you to be sure that no shadow of mine comes 
between you, and that I — wish it." [Rousing him- 



196 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

self and turning to Camilla.] Camilla. [As she 
comes to him he gives her the letter.'] It's for you, as 
well as for me — she meant it. 

[She sits by the side of the font reading 
under the light of the lantern. He leaves 
her till she has real the letter. Then 
shehides her eyes with her hand and he 
r< funis and Mauds before her icith his 
hands clasped. 

Dexxis. 
[In a whisper.'] Camilla. [She gives a little sob. 
Let it be so — let it be so. 

[She removes her hand from her eyes and 
sits staring at him,"] 

Camilla. 

Dennis ! 

Dennis. 

My motherless girl laughs and plays alone in my 
home — the one young life near me — but every child- 
like sound seems to beg that she may know a living 
mother. And T — /am solitary. I've come back to 
England thinking to discharge a debt. Be Lady 
Bountiful to me still and take the remaining years 
of my life for it — the thought, the care, the service 
of my life ! 

Camilla. 

[Rising and facing him, like a woman in a 
dream."] Dennis. Dennis — Heron. You — don't — 
know? No one has — told you? 

Dexxis. 
What? 

[She looks round the church, he following 
her gaze. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 197 

Camilla. 

These flowers — placed here by the school-children. 

Dennis. 
Why? 

Camilla. 
The — the marriage. 

Dennis. 

Marriage ? 

Camilla. 

To-morrow — to-morrow. [She stands trembling, 
with her hands tightly clasped and her eyes down."] 
Richard's long friendship — growing ont of that — 
into affection — years ago. His — untiring — solicitude 
— his — deep — devotion — the prospect of a useful — 
calm — good — life ! My aunt — her dearest wish ! 
To-morrow — to-morrow — to-morrow. 

Dennis. 

Oh, forgive me — forgive me ! 

Camilla. 
Yes. You did not know. Yes. 

Dennis. 

Ah, may God bless you and your husband, 
Camilla ! To this church, where |you and I have 
knelt together, I come back to worship once more 
by our side ; and my prayer is — God bless you and 
your husband ! 

Camilla. 
That is right — and good. Everything else we 



198 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

will forget. [Returning Jiim the letter.] Poor Mar- 
garet ! 

[He places the letter reverently in the 
breast of his coat. 

Camtlla. 

Mind there are some things to forget ! [Looking 
at him steadily.'] Dennis — forget ! 

Dennis. 

Yes. Forget ! 

[Lucian's voice is hi ard in the distance. 

Ll < IAN. 

[ Calling.'] Camilla ! Cam ! Cam ! Are you 
there? 

Dkxnis. 

[ Calling.] Holloa ! Lucian ! 

[Camilla goes v}i the aisle. 

Lucian* 

[Nearer."] Dennis! [Entering quickly and seiz- 
ing Dennis by the shoulders.] My clear* old chap! 
My dear fellow ! After all these years ! Jolly, eh ? 
Jolly ? 

Dennis* 

Lucian. 

Lucian. 

Your scribble was waiting for me when I got 
home, and I took the " George " on my way here. 
My dear old chap ! You've found Cam. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 199 

Dexxis. 
Yes — I strolled into the church 

LtciAsr. 

So you know all our news — about to-morrow ? 

Dexxis. 

Yes, yes— yes, yes. 

Lr< iAX - . 

You'll be my guest, Dennis. I've sent a man to 
the " George "to fetch your baggage. The Grange 
is your home here, you know. 

Dexxis. 

Ah, Lucian ! 

LuflAX. 

\_To Camilla.] Cam! [Camilla comes and takes 
Luciax*s arm.] St. Eanswythe is not very inspirit- 
ing at this hour. Wfoat fancies you have! \_Going 
toward theporch.[ Come along, Dennis ! 

Dexxis. 
Go on — I — I'll follow yuu. I must go back into, 
the village. 

T,r<r\x. 
"What a fellow you art'! \_Li the porch."] Ugh J 
cold and cloudy!] He disappears, with Camilla, his- 
voice getting gradually distant] Be quick, Dennis! 
Dine at eight! No ladies to-night. Ha, ha, ha!- 
Men — gossip— smoke — good health to Richard — old 
times ! Dear old Dennis ! Dear old Dennis ! 

\_As Lucia x*s voice dies away Dexxis sh/ks 
into a chair burying his headin his hands:. 
After a moment's stillness, there comes th% 



200 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

faint sound of apeal of church bells a long 
way off. Mrs. Hodnutt comes down the 
aisle and at the same moment Pedgrift 
ascends the crypt stairs. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 

[Seeing Dennis — to herself] Ah, deary me! To 
be sure, to be sure! [Aside to Pedgrift — pointing 
to Dennis.] Samuel Pedgrift, look'ee there ! 

[The;/ stand watching Dennis for a moment 
silently. 

Pedgrift. 
I Grimly.'] Ah! You 'old 'ee tongue. Mrs. Hod- 
nutt ! 

[lie closes and locks the crypt door. 

Dennis. 

[Looking up at them and raising.] "What bells 
are those ? 

Pedgrift. 

St Paul's at Baverstoke — Sir Richard's own parish. 
They're beginnin' their rejicin's hover night — we 
don't ring here till marnin'. 

Dennis. 
Ah ! [Nodding to Pedgrift and Mrs. Hodnutt.] 
Good night. 

Pedgrift and Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Good night to ye, Mr. Dennis. 

Mrs. Hodnutt. 
Shall we' see your kind face at the weddin', sir ? 

Dennts. 
Yes. Good -night. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 201 

\_He walks out through the porch. Mrs. 
Hodxutt and Y~edg-rift slowly follow- 
ing. Then there is the sound of the 
shutting of a heavy door and the grat- 
ing of a lock. The curtain falls. 



After a few moments the curtain rises, showing the 
church in bright sunlight. The pews are oc- 
cupied by the village folk and the tradespeople, 
a soldier, a policeman, grooms and other ser- 
vants. In front of the pews are some children 
carrying nosegays. Other village folk and 
ladies and gentlemen are coming in, andMjRS. 
Hodxutt is fussily directing them to their 
places. The wedding party is assembled — 
Sir Richard, his best man and some guests 
in one group, Miss Brext, Beatrix, dressed 
as a bridesmaid , together with the rest of the 
bridesmaids in another. Miss Brext is 
greeting guests as they arrive. Some chil- 
dren carrying floioers are waiting in the porch / 
Pedgrift and two villagers are pulling the 
bell ropes. The clergymen can just be seen 
through a small arched opening. 

A Max. 

[Turning to a w oman in front of 'him .] The sun 
shines on her niarryin', if that be owt of a good 
sign. 

A Womax. 

Aye, they be rich folk — 'twere rainin' and blowy 
when I were wed. Lordsakes! here's Gran'fer 
Pilbeam ! 



202 LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

\_A very old man is led in through the porch 
by a little girl. Mrs. Hodnutt beckons 
hint angrily, then assists him into the 
marts place, who makes way for him. 
Dennis comes down the aisle, a /ul stands 
by the font talking to a gentleman, 

A Woman. 
Look'ee theer ! Theer's young Heron. 

A Man. 
Young Heron ! 

A Woman. 
Back t' Lydgate, grey-haired. 

A Man. 
Aye. lie were Miss Camifly's fancy once't, they 
do declare. 

A Woman. 
She's well saved. Why, he went rakey and ruined 
his own feyther — that be known for true. 

[ The organ is j>I<iy> <K there Is a y< m ral 'move- 
ment of expectation. A little girl runs in 
to speak to the bridesmaids, 'who go out 
excitedly through the porch, 

A Man. 



She's comin' ! 
She beaint ! 



A Woman. 



A Man. 

I telFee she's comin! \_Loo7dng across.'] Eh, but 
she's sorry looking'. When my gel were wed she 
were flamin' red i' th' face. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. 203 

A Woman. 

. Thy gel wedded a lad. Sir Eichard be a elderly- 
man, and theer's now't to be 'shamed at. 

[Camilla and Lucian enter through the porch 
she lean i n g upon his (inn. Beatrix and 
the other bridesmaids follow. The porch 
is then filled up by the children and some 
footmen wearing wedding favours. As 
Camilla passes Dennis, who is standing 
by the font, she looks at him momentarily. 
Sir Richard advances to meet Camilla, 
they stand at the chancel rails, the rest 
taking their proper positions. Pedgrift 
and his men cease their bell-ringing and 
the organ stops. There is a moment of 
silence, then Camilla totters back with her 
hand to her brow. 

Camilla. 
[Almost inaudibly.] Dennis ! 

[She sinks into a chair by the font, with her 
head b oio ed and her hands covering her 
face. There is a movement of consterna- 
tion from all, then complete stillness. 

Miss Brent. 
[ Coming to Camilla's side.~\ Camilla ! 

[Camilla does not stir. 

Sir Richard. 

[Slowly approaching Miss Brest and touching her 

arm.'] Anne. [She turns to him.'] There shall 

be no marriage to-day. I think I know — I think I 

know. 

THE END. 



LADY BOUNTIFUL 

A STORY OF YEARS 
$ (£fa£ in four $cf e 



BY 

ARTHUR W. PINERO 



My masters will you hear a simple tale ? 

No war, no lust, not a Commandment broke 

By sir or madam— but a history 

To make a rhyme to speed a young maid's hour.'' 



NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

5 and 7 East Sixteenth Street 

Chicago : 266 & 268 Wabash Ave. 



** 



fc*' 




























































Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 



Treatment Date: April 2009 



PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



